


The Tale of the Silver Sight

by awesomenerd16



Category: Are You Afraid of the Dark?, Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: AYAOTD, Based on a TV show, F/F, Friendship, Gen, Horror, Midnight Society, Mystery, Scary Stories
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-06-07 15:56:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15222626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awesomenerd16/pseuds/awesomenerd16
Summary: Aubrey finds herself seeking out help from her old Midnight Society gang to solve a mystery.





	1. Part I: Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story is heavily inspired by the multi-part episode from the 90s tv series "Are You Afraid of the Dark." If you grew up a 90s kid like me, then Are You Afraid of the Dark? definitely influenced your childhood. One of my favorite tales was The Tale of the Silver Sight, so I've adapted that storyline, added a few things of my own, and maybe it's something you all want to read. This will be a six part story, hope y'all enjoy it. So, submitted for the approval of the Midnight Society... I call this story *throws dust onto fire*

_**Part I: Prologue** _

It’s the middle of the night, and the sound of crickets chirping echo in the air. The only light guiding the blonde through the familiar brush and wooded surroundings are the soft beams cast down by the moon. Aubrey’s boot steps on a branch emitting a loud crunch as she rounds the corner to the cleared campsite. 

She smiles widely, pausing her movements to take a moment and reflect on the many nights she spent here with her friends growing up, sneaking out to tell each other ghost stories and creepy tales.

Aubrey exhales a deep breath before cocking her head to the side in curiosity. Catching her attention not thirty feet in front of her is a small figure with their back turned, stoking the flames of the lit fire in the center of the circle with a long branch. She clears her throat quietly before speaking out.

“Hey, how about letting an old timer sit in tonight?” She asks.

The figure in front of her doesn’t appear to have heard her due to their lack of response, instead, smacking the stick against the circular rock structure.

“It’s okay, I’m Amy’s cousin, Aubrey. I used to run these meetings.” She says a little more loudly as she approaches the site, the flames from the fire lighting up her face.

Still no response from the figure.

Aubrey glances around cautiously at the campsite, noting the additional furniture that has since been added to the circle, no doubt a collaboration on Fat Amy and Beca’s part. Comfort was always their priority back her high school days.

“Well it looks like you’ve changed things up a little bit,” she comments with a slight judgmental tone to her voice. Immediately recognizing that comment as potentially rude to an unknown member, she quickly lets out a small laughs and follows up her remark.

“I mean it looks great. Far more… leisurely than how we had it set up back in my day. We just had a bunch of rocks and stumps. Not ideal for maintaining good posture.” She starts to trail off, getting more annoyed every passing second by the figure who continues to ignore her.

She approaches closer to the kid, who she now discerns to be a young boy with messy, medium length dark brown hair. _Brown hair and rudeness… I wonder if this is a relative of Beca’s?_ Aubrey thinks to herself with a smirk.

A few more footsteps and the blonde is close enough to touch the boy, who is still stoking the fire. She raises her hand as to grab his shoulder and gain his attention.

“You know, when I was here, we…”

Aubrey is suddenly cut off by the figure whipping around in front of her. She lets out a high pitched shriek once she sees the deformed and demonic looking face of the child. The creature growls at her before starting to lurch forward in an attempt to grab her.

Aubrey stumbles backwards before regaining her footing and bolting back the the way she came through the forest. She’s just rounding the corner of bushes at full speed when a larger figure steps out in front of her, catching Aubrey off-guard and knocking her back on her butt.

“Aubrey!” The figure exclaims in a frightened, deep male voice.

“Grandpa?” She asks in confusion, recognizing the man standing above her. Picking herself off the ground, Aubrey quickly looks back over her shoulder to see if she was being chased.

“I need your help!” The older male cries out in fear.

“Gramps, what are you doing here? Are you okay? Does Grams know you’re here?” Aubrey asks in rapid fire succession.

“Aubrey, I need your help!” He says, reaching his arm out toward her face.

_**RIIIIIINNNNGGGGGG** _

The loud piercing sound of a telephone bolts Aubrey upward in bed. Slightly disoriented and disheveled, she blindly reaches around her side table for her cellphone.

“Hello?” She asks the midnight caller, slightly out of breath, still shaken from her dream.

“Oh hi, Grandma Aggie. No, it’s fine, I was already awake, sort of.” She comforts her grandmother on the other end. “Is everything okay?”

Aubrey listens to the other side of the conversation, her face instantly dropping in sadness and grief.

“Oh my gosh.” She raises a hand to her mouth to contain the soft whimper threatening to spill out.

Suddenly a light pops on from the opposite side of the dorm room, a red-headed figure sitting up in her own bed, looking concerned.

“Bree, is everything okay?” Chloe asks in a hushed voice, beginning to climb out of bed and walk over to her roommate and best friend.

Aubrey shakes her head in the negative and she continues listening on the other line, Chloe approaching to sit next to her on the double bed.

“Yeah, yes. I’ll be over in the morning, grandma. I’m so sorry. Try and get some sleep, I’ll see you soon.” Aubrey finishes the call with little emotion in her voice. She hangs up the call and lets her phone drop to her lap with a thump. The blonde simply looks over towards her best friend with watery eyes before she’s wrapped up in a tight hug.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

It’s a brisk fall morning, as Aubrey walks solemnly down the sidewalk towards her grandmother’s home, tugging the lapel of her coat a little tighter to her neck. Red, orange and yellow leaves shuffle about on the ground from the light breeze. It feels a little chillier than usual for September in New England, but it seems almost fitting for her mood. She approaches a red brick Romanesque home situated in the middle of the long street, spotting an older woman sitting outside on the front porch, aimlessly rocking back and forth in a wicker rocking chair. Aubrey ascends the wooden porch steps to see her grandmother dabbing at her eyes with a soggy tissue.

“Hi,” Aubrey greets quietly, a thin smile gracing her lips. Her grandmother glances up, meeting Aubrey’s gaze with sad, teary eyes.

“We were sitting here just yesterday, watching the kids play ball in the street.” Aggie says with a sad smile. “Gene got such a kick out of that.”

Aubrey approaches her grandmother and sits down in the rocking chair next to her, reaching over to softly take her hand.

“It’s amazing how quickly things can change.” Aggie cries, dabbing at her eyes again.

“Gramps wasn’t even sick. What happened?” Aubrey questioned.

“He came home upset about something. I’ve never seen him in such a state.” She said with a tremble. “He was angry and frightened. I tried to calm him down, but he was all wound up and…” Aggie begins to cry, struggling to get the words out. “His heart─ wasn’t strong enough to take it.”

“What was he so upset about,” Aubrey asks, uncertain of what could have possibly upset her normally mild-mannered grandfather.

“I don’t know.” Aggie said, gazing out towards the empty street before turning her head slowly back towards the younger blonde. “But… he said, it had something to do with you.” Aubrey’s eyes grow wide, confused and alarmed by this piece of information.

“What do you mean, ‘It had something to do with me?’”

“Come inside dear, I have something you might want to see.” Aggie gathers the thin blanket from her lap and stands to head inside the house, while her granddaughter abruptly stands to follow her.

As Aubrey crosses the threshold of the doorway, she is hit with an overwhelming amount of emotion. Knowing that she’ll never see her grandpa descending the stairs again with a giant smile on his face, or walk into the hall from the kitchen with a mug of cocoa for her… the memories racing through her mind and the thoughts of now forever lost moments flood her senses, causing her eyes to well up and her body to slump into the bannister. She takes a moment to collect herself before continuing her path deeper into the cozy residence. Uncertain of where her grandmother walked off to, she decides to pass the time looking at old photographs on the shelf in the living room. 

Most of the photos displayed on the corner unit are black and white, her grandparents being in their 70s now. Several images show versions of her grandparents in their youth, a few professional photos, many candids. There were a few group photos of old friends and family members. As Aubrey grazed her hand across each frame, she came across a more recent picture. Lifting up the golden frame from its place on the shelf, Aubrey analyzes the image. Staring back at her are two smiling, happy faces as her grandparents stand in an embrace. As she looks at the photo, Aubrey just can't believe that her grandfather has passed away. It was not something she was prepared for, and she is trying her hardest to hold it together for the sake of her grandmother.

Aggie reappears from the study holding a thick brown leather portfolio as Aubrey places the framed photo back in its spot.

“He was desperate to tell you something,” her grandmother says as she sits down on the antique couch in the living room. Aubrey takes a seat in an oversized chair across from her. “Your grandfather, Gene, was a wonderful man. He loved to tell stories. Laugh at silly things. He wasn’t often serious, but when he was, I _always_ listened. And he was very serious about making sure that you got this.” She opens up the portfolio and pulls out a smaller, thin white squared object and hands it over to the blonde.

Aubrey takes the item from her, opening up the folded paper to reveal an object inside.

“What is this, a piece of an old record?” She turns over the small triangular piece of vinyl record in her hands, revealing a message on the inner label. “ _Listen to the music_. What does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” her grandmother responds. “But he wrote this to go along with it.” She hands over a few pages of parchment. Aubrey starts to look through the pages when a voice from the hallway disturbs them.

“Grams?” A larger blonde woman walks into the living room from the foyer. “I came as soon as I heard.”

“Oh, Amy.” Aggie gets up from her seat on the couch to greet her other granddaughter, giving her a consoling hug. “I’m glad you did, sweetie, thank you.”

Aubrey and Amy are three years apart in age, both of their mothers wanting to have children close in age so they could grow up together like they did. It didn’t quite work out as they planned when Amy’s family relocated back to Australia, her father’s home country, for several years. It wasn’t until after the divorce when Amy was six and Aubrey was nine, that they moved back home to Massachusetts. Though very different in personalities, Aubrey and Amy managed to develop a close relationship and always had each other’s backs, even as they got older, when kids typically begin to grow apart. Their families remained very close, however, often finding themselves gathering at their grandparents’ house most weekends. As both girls aged, Amy became very close with her grandmother, while Aubrey seemed to develop a deep relationship with her grandfather. They often bonded over storytelling, her gramps sharing many old tales with her and being the one to introduce her to the Midnight Society.

“I don’t know what to say. I’d make a joke about a Tanzanian and a wallaby, but it feels a little inappropriate.” Fat Amy cringes a bit.

“Good call, Ames.” Aubrey says distractedly from her chair as she reads through the papers.

“It’s alright, I know how you feel.” Aggie places a comforting hand on her granddaughter’s cheek.

“But honestly, if yeh need anything Grams, I’m here. Just name it. Mum’s outta the country, tryin’a get back in for the funeral, but she’s got a pretty large wine collection in the meantime.” The australian says, trying her best to comfort her grandmother.

“That’s alright dear, but thank you for the offer.”

“Oh my gosh,” Aubrey exclaims from behind the two figures. “This is my dream!”

“What dream?” Fat Amy says, confused. Aubrey stands up abruptly.

“Grandma, I need some time to figure this out, may I take this?” She asks, holding the record up.

“Yes, of course.” Aggie responds.

“Thank you, I’ll be back later, okay?” Aubrey kisses her grandmother’s cheek then turns to her cousin. “Come on Ames.” Aubrey walks past the two and out the front door at a determined pace.

“You sure you don’t need anything?” Amy asks.

“No, dear. But call me later?” Aggie says with a smile.

“You got it.” Amy sprints back out the front door to catch up with her cousin, who is decidedly a _lot_ further down the street than she thought possible in such a short period of time.

“Aubrey. _Aubrey!_ Wait up!” The younger girl huffs, trying to catch her breath. “Wooh, cardio. Not something I do often enough. Gimme a second.” She places her right hand on her older cousin’s shoulder, and the left firmly on her knee as she bends over to gain air back into her lungs.

“Okay, we’re good.”

“We’re good?” Aubrey echos comically.

“Yeh. Good. Good.” Amy resumes her upward position and the two women continue walking away from their grandmother’s home at a more leisurely pace. “So what’s with the note?”

“Do you have a meeting tonight?”

“Yeh, but I’ll cancel it--” 

“Don’t.” Aubrey interrupts.

“Why not?”

“Cause I need to be there.”

“Why?”

“It has to do with this,” Aubrey pulls the piece of record from her jacket pocket to show to Amy. “It might tell us why grandpa Gene died.” She says with a firm expression, handing the piece to her cousin as she continues to walk ahead. Amy lifts the chipped record up to read it.

“Listen to the music?” She says, extremely confused, before quickening her pace to catch up to Aubrey.

The two cousins separate for the remainder of the day, Amy going back home to distract herself from the emotions she was feeling over the passing of her grandpa, and Aubrey heading back towards her campus dormitory to do some thinking before the meeting tonight.

When she arrives back at her room, Aubrey finds her best and oldest friend laying spread out on her bed with her eyes closed, listening to music and humming along. Aubrey moves around the room, taking off her coat and placing the record piece and sheets of papers from her gramps down on her desk. She collapse on her bed and stares up at the ceiling, reflecting on the information that she’s learned today.

That dream she had last night felt so real, and it couldn’t just be a coincidence that her grandfather happened to show up in it, then his death happening. But if it _wasn’t_ a coincidence, then what was it? Stuff like this wasn’t real. All the stories they ever told or had been told were always made-up, pretend. But this… this was something entirely else.

“Hey.” Aubrey hears a quiet voice from across the room, gazing up to see Chloe taking off her headphones. “When did you get back?”

“Just a few minutes ago.” Aubrey responds.

“You and Amy okay? How’s your grams doing?”

“Amy didn’t have as close a relationship with Gramps, but it’s still tough on her. I think she’s doing okay though. And Grams is as to be expected. Better, actually? I don’t know. She was a wreck, but if it had been my husband who died just yesterday out of the blue, I’d be an immovable mess. So she’s holding up incredibly strong, considering.”

“Yeah.” The redhead responds, not really knowing what to say. “So... whatcha got there?” She asks, pointing to the items on Aubrey’s desk.

“So this is really weird, but my gramps left this for me,” the blonde says, picking up the record and handing it over to Chloe to examine it.

“What does it mean?” The college junior asks after taking a moment to read the writing.

“I have no clue. But he also left me a letter and I think it might explain why he died. Not explicitly… at least I don’t think so. I couldn’t really make much of a few things. Also, some of it just seemed too farfetched to be real.”

“Can I see? I mean, is that okay?” Chloe asks, trying to be considerate, but her curiosity getting the best of her.

“Yeah, go ahead,” Aubrey motions for her to pick up the papers. Chloe does so, and begins reading through them, her brow furrowing with each passing paragraph.

“Is this for real?”

“I don’t know. I want to believe…”

“Well, when you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth. Right?”

“Alright there, Sherlock. That comp lit class is really paying off for you, huh?” Aubrey grins wryly.

“It is. But that’s not the point. I mean, what if this _is_ real? I don’t think you should discount the information until you really look into it.” Chloe argues.

“Yeah, I know. Plus I think I owe it to Grandpa Gene. So… how do you feel about attending a Midnight Society meeting tonight?” Chloe face lights up instantly.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Earlier in the evening, Fat Amy sent out a group chat to everyone, indicating they all meet in the usual spot before heading into the woods, and that Aubrey would be joining tonight to talk about something.

As midnight rolls closer, each current member arrives at the large oak tree near the edge of the cemetery and forest. Fat Amy and Beca, two of the oldest current members, were the first to arrive. Beca had spent the majority of the evening with Amy, doing her best to take her best friend’s mind off her grandfather's recent death. Amy had spent some time catching Beca up on the events of the morning, bringing up the record, but neither of them could figure out what it might have meant. So they killed time playing video games and eating junk food, as two high school seniors would do on a long holiday weekend.

Stacie is the next to arrive. The tall and leggy brunette had joined around the same time as Beca and Amy when they were all in middle school, back when Aubrey was first re-instigating the group as a high school freshman. Aubrey initially had a hard time convincing most of her friends that sneaking out to an empty spot in the woods in the middle of the night, and rather than drink alcohol, tell ghost stories, was a great idea. So after brainstorming with her first approved member and best friend, Chloe Beale, she opened up the invitation to her younger cousin Amy and some of her friends. At the time, twelve-year old Amy was only too excited at the prospect of sneaking out late to tell ghost stories, and she immediately recruited her two best friends, Beca Mitchell and Jesse Swanson. A few weeks after the small group formed, Stacie Conrad, a pretty and popular cheerleader at their middle school, had overheard the three of them talking about it one day and cornered them about joining. They initiated her that very next meeting, blindfolding her and taking her out to the woods, where she delivered one of the more scary stories in recent memory for the group and was unanimously voted in, but not before Aubrey severely reprimanded all of them for talking about the group so openly. It was a secret society, she reiterated multiple times, then threatened that if anyone spoke of the group again and invited a new person without the consent of everyone, they’d have their vocal cords ripped out by wolves. Suffice it to say, the Midnight Society remained a heavily guarded secret, only allowing a few more members to join over the next couple years: two inseparable girls, Jessica Smith and Ashley Jones, and a quirky, shy boy named Benjamin Applebaum.

Cynthia-Rose shows up a few minutes after Stacie, flipping her bright pink hair out of her face as she approached the three girls. CR was admitted to the group a couple years ago as a sophomore. Five minutes later, Flo and Emily, the youngest members of the group, are the last to arrive. After Aubrey and Chloe graduated three years ago, the group that remained decided to fill their empty slots in the group gradually over the following years.

“I thought you said your cousin was going to be here?” Flo asks, looking around for an unfamiliar face.

“Yeah Ames, what’s up with that? It’s 12:01. I thought Posen was _always_ punctual.” Beca says, clicking open the screen on her cellphone to check the time. “Guess she’s not so perfect, huh?” Beca laughs.

“Wrong as usual, Mitchell,” Aubrey scoffs haughtily as she and Chloe appear from behind them, emerging from the woods.

“Wha- where did you guys come from?” Beca asks, surprised.

“Come on, Beca. Did you really think I wouldn’t get here an hour early to make sure the campsite was set up and get the fire going? Who knows how long it still takes you both to do it.” Aubrey says with raised eyebrows, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Not long!” Beca lamely defends herself.

“Yeh, Becs has it down to four minutes. And it only took her five years to get there.” Amy says jokingly at Beca’s expense.

“Shut up Amy.”

“Oh come on Amy, don’t be mean. Besides, how often does one _really_ need to know how to start a fire from scratch? I’m sure Becs has many other amazing skills.” Chloe defends, smiling brightly towards the smaller brunette. 

“I can start it in 45 seconds!” Emily pipes up. 

“No one asked you Em!” Beca yells. Amy and Aubrey laugh loudly at her reaction.

“Come on guys, let's head out to the clearing.” Aubrey instructs, and the group of eight start off into the dark woods.

“Man, with Aubrey and Chloe being back, it feels like old times, doesn’t it.” Stacie, one of the senior members of the group says to her fellow friends, Amy and Beca, as they flank her walking through the trees.

“Yeh, try not to get your panties in a twist Shortstack, now that Chloe’s back.” Amy laughs.

“Would you keep it down!” Beca says sharply, smacking Amy in the arm. “Besides, I don’t even know what you’re talking about.” The petite brunette deflects, looking over her shoulder to make sure the redhead in question can’t overhear their conversation.

“Sure you don’t. The deep forming bruise on my arm is just for fun, cause we like abusing our best friends.” Amy mocks, rubbing at her arm overdramatically as they continue making their way through the large trees. “So where’s Swanson been at? I feel like I haven’t seen him around at school lately.”

“Amy, you know he spends the first semesters with his dad back in Washington. He left 3 weeks ago just before school started up.” Beca exclaims.

“Hey. I’ve got a lot going on Beca, show some respect for the deceased.”

“Again, I’m sorry your gramps died dude, that sucks, but that was a day ago. Jesse’s been absent for weeks.”

“Between my grandpa dying and being my super awesome self, I haven’t really had time to think about Jesse’s whereabouts.” Amy sighs excessively.

“Whatever.” Beca rolls her eyes.

“What about Benji?” Stacie asks.

“Sick.”

“Jessley.” 

“Out of town dance recital. Guys, how did I become the mom of this group. I literally do not care where you all are outside of this particular commitment.” Beca gripes.

“But don’t their absences have to do with this particular commitment.” Stacie counters.

“Check and mate.” Amy laughs.

“I hate you both.” Beca says as the group finally manages to reach the edge of the campsite clearing, pushing their way past the final few barriers of bushes.

“So, your grandfather started the Midnight Society?” Emily, the youngest member of the group asks Aubrey as the pack of eight each emerge into the campsite, deep within the woods.

“1947. He and four friends cleared these woods, made the fire ring, and built the storyteller’s chair,” The eldest member of the crew explains as they enter the circle, looking down fondly at the chair shaped from rock.

“And there’s been a Midnight Society coming out here ever since,” Fat Amy comes up from behind the taller blonde, tacking on the end of her cousin’s explanation.

“Wow, that’s a lot of stories,” Stacie comments, as she pulls a nail file from her pocket and takes a seat on the beat up couch next to Cynthia-Rose.

“I bet your Gramps told great stories,” Chloe tells her best friend with a comforting smile.

“Thanks Chlo.” Aubrey watches as the remaining members all take a seat.

“Just before he died, Gramps wrote down a story.” Aubrey states, still standing next to the storyteller’s chair; the group responds with various sounds of excitement.

“Cool,” Beca says, while Cynthia-Rose says for her to go on.

“His last.” Aubrey says sadly, pulling the pages of folded up paper from her jacket pocket and revealing them to the group. “And it’s the most amazing story the Midnight Society is ever going to hear.”

Beca and Chloe make eye contact across the flames, Stacie puts down her nail file and gives her full attention, while Emily crosses her hands in front of her mouth, gazing up with wide eyes.

“He began it over 60 years ago,” Aubrey says, beginning to pace around the outer edge of the circle, passing behind Emily and Amy on the first small couch. “And it’s still not finished.”

“Not finished?” Emily asks.

“He wants us to finish it,” Fat Amy says.

“It’s about five best friends who got this charm from a magic shop.” Aubrey starts to explain.

“Like the Magic Mansion,” Flo adds from her chair. 

“Sort of. They thought it was a good luck piece. But they soon found out the only luck this charm had… was bad luck.” The blonde says.

“Good start. Keep going,” Beca prompts from the cushioned stool she’s sitting on as Aubrey passes behind her.

“The charm was called the Silver Sight, and it held a powerful black magick.” Aubrey continues as she circles behind Stacie, CR and Chloe before ending back in her original starting position, next to the storyteller’s chair.

“When the friends found out, they tried to get rid of it, but they didn’t know how. And then, horrible things started happening to each of them... All because one of the friends, someone they thought they could trust, was using the evil magick of the charm.”

“A traitor in the group? That’s awful.” Emily states, shocked. Aubrey re-initiates walking around the camp circle, continuing to hold the rapt attention of every group member.

“So one of the friends took the charm, and hid it. He gave each of the members one clue that told them where it was hidden. He figured they’d have to put their clues together to find it, because working together was the only way they could destroy it.” Aubrey states, continuing to pace.

“Cool, like a treasure hunt. What were the clues?” Stacie asks, now completely enthralled with the story.

“Well the guy that took the charm made a voice recording. They didn’t have cassettes or CDs or anything like that to record on back then, so he made a record, and he broke it into five pieces.” Aubrey says, taking a seat in the storyteller’s chair.

“On each piece, he wrote down one clue, then gave a piece to each of his friends, and kept one himself.”

“So to find out where the silver sight was, they had to put the record back together, get all the clues and listen to it.” Chloe sums up for the group.

“Exactly.” Aubrey confirms, looking over at her best friend.

“That’s cool. So then what happens.” Emily asks with curiosity. A beat of silence passes over the group, as Aubrey pauses with her story to stare into the fire.

“What happens is... this isn’t a story, is it?” Stacie says, causing Aubrey to look up slowly, directly into her eyes.

“What?” Emily and Flo say at the same time. Beca glances over at Fat Amy with a furrowed brow, and the blonde gives her a small nod in the affirmation before standing up.

“Yeh, this is a story alright… a true story.” Amy hands Stacie the triangular piece of record to look at.

“No way.” Beca says, disbelievingly.

“Aubrey, this really happened?” Emily asks, a trace of fear in her voice.

“Unfortunately, yes.” Chloe places a comforting hand on Aubrey’s wrist.

“Why don’t you tell us everything.” Stacie encourages, handing the record piece back to the blonde.

“Alright, here it is. The five friends were the first original members of the Midnight Society. They never got back together once they disbanded, so the silver sight has remained hidden all these years.” Aubrey explains.

“Good! Let it stay hidden.” CR says loudly. Flo nods in agreement.

“But yesterday, something scared grandpa Gene so badly, he had a heart attack. It had to do with the silver sight.”

“You mean like, it’s come back?” Emily asks fearfully, wrapping her head around all the information the former leader is telling them.

“I don’t know. This note is a plea for help, and our gramps gave it to me, because he didn’t think anyone else would believe him.” Aubrey says, looking over at Amy before handing the record piece to the youngest member.

“What kind of help are you talking about, Posen?” Beca asks.

“Well, Mitchell… My gramps wants me to track down the old Midnight Society, get their clues from them, then find the silver sight and destroy it, once and for all. Like they should’ve done years ago.”

“So why are you telling us?” Flo asks.

“Because we gotta move fast.” Fat Amy interjects. “Gramps was afraid somebody else might find it first.”

“There was nobody else we could go to that would believe us… except you guys.” Aubrey says sincerely, looking at each of the younger members in the eyes.

“So what do you want _us_ to do?” Beca asks, still confused as to where Aubrey is going with whatever request she’s not quite saying.

“Well I’ve got four names, the rest of the original Midnight Society. I was hoping we could all split up, each take a name, find them, and get their piece of the record. That’s it. Ames and I will take it from there.” Aubrey concludes.

“What if we find the traitor?” Chloe asks, concerned.

“I don’t know.” Aubrey shakes her head. “Look, I don’t blame you guys if you don’t want to help. What Amy and I are asking you for, it’s a lot, and if I were any of you, I don’t know if I’d believe a word that came out of my mouth as true. But we need your help.” Aubrey implores.

There’s a quiet that fills the space as each of the group members take a moment to process everything they just heard. The crackling of the fire and chirping of crickets are the only sounds that separate them from complete and overwhelming silence. Several of the girls glance back and forth at one another, silently trying to figure out what the others are thinking, hoping it would give them an answer of their own.

“Aubrey, we tell stories here. Made up stories? This one is like… _real_.” Emily says standing up, overwhelmed and a little frightened at the prospect of going up against a potentially real-life evil spirit.

“Exactly stringbean, that’s _why_ we have to do something. _Because_ it’s real.” Fat Amy declares, standing up quickly as well. A beat of silence and guilt forces Emily to take her seat again.

“Tell us about the silver sight thing again,” Stacie inquires.

“Well it’s a charm, probably a small thing,” Aubrey begins to describe, staring the leggy brunette directly in the eye. “But it has some kind of power that can really hurt people.”

“Aw man, I’m not liking this.” CR exclaims from her position next to Stacie.

“Your gramps was a good guy, right?” Stacie questions.

“The best.” Aubrey confirms with a sincere nod. “I need to find out the real reason why he died.”

“Okay. Give me a name, quick.” Stacie exhales deeply, standing up and stepping directly in front of Aubrey. “Come on, before I change my mind.”

Aubrey is a little thrown back, and stands to meet Stacie’s height and hand her a slip of paper with a name on it. Emily, Flo and Beca all exchange looks of uncertainty, unable to believe Stacie was so willing to jump into this craziness.

“Why don’t we just find the guy that hid this thing in the first place,” Cynthia-Rose asks, trying to use some semblance of logic.

“Because he died the day after he hid it.” Fat Amy adds.

“Oh great, this just keeps getting better.” CR says, shifting uncomfortably before leaning back against the couch.

“Well you know I’ll help.” Chloe stands up in support of her best friend. Beca gazes over at the redhead before resigning herself to the situation.

“I’ll help too.” The petite brunette says.

“Oh you will, huh shawshank?” Fat Amy eyes the redhead next to her coyly and looks back to Beca.

“Yes, _Patricia_ , I will. So shut up unless you don’t _want_ my help.” Beca bites back, annoyed by the very indiscrete facial expression the Australian was making.

“Thanks Beca. Any help is appreciated.” Aubrey says.

“Sure. But uh, I kind of don’t want to take a name by myself.” Beca looks around the campfire, hoping she’s not coming off as big of a wuss as she feels saying that out loud.

“No problem, how about you and Chloe pair up and take a name together?” Aubrey suggests, raising her eyebrows discretely towards her best friend. Aubrey knows that Chloe has harbored a minor crush on the surly brunette for a few years now, and pairing them together, even if for a potentially dangerous task, would be the work of a good wing-woman and best friend. 

Aubrey hands a slip of paper over to Chloe containing the name assignment for her and Beca to take.

“Don’t you think that all this is just a little out of bounds,” Emily pipes up from her position next to Amy on the couch, still extremely nervous about the whole thing.

“That’s fine Em, you don’t have to help.” Fat Amy says to her, rather sincerely, patting the younger girl’s shoulder. Emily finds it an odd and uncommon emotion for the Australian to emote towards her. Emily looks around at Stacie, Chloe and Beca, all looking at their respective names on the papers, slowly gaining a bit of confidence seeing the others stepping up. Emily takes a deep breath and stands up as confidently as she ever has before, stepping forward towards Aubrey with her shoulders squared and her chin raised up.

“You know I’ll help. Because if this thing starts to get nasty, you’re gonna need me.” The freshman girl says, taking the third slip of paper from Aubrey.

“Okay Em, that’s adorable, but it’s like a puppy dog trying to be confident and intimidating.” Fat Amy jokes, motioning for her to step to the side and sit back down.

“We appreciate the help, though.” Aubrey adds with a small grin. “Cynthia-Rose, what about you?” The blonde asks the girl who has been quiet for the last several minutes.

“Oh absolutely not.” The girl says, standing up. “If this evil spirit shit is actually real, I want no part of it. Have you ever SEEN a horror movie. The black character is _always_ the first to go. Nope, nuh uh. You all have fun on your ghost hunt. Don’t get killed.” She says as she grabs her bag to head out from the campsite.

“I’m with her.” Flo adds, also rising from her chair. “You guys are loco to look into this. I like my head attached to my body, thank you very much.” The petite sophomore says as she follows the path Cynthia-Rose just took to exit.

“Well they can–“ a figure pops back into view from around a pile of bushes, cutting Fat Amy off and causing a couple of the girls to scream in fright.

“In case you all die horrible deaths, can I become leader of the group?” Flo asks.

Aubrey sighs heavily, rubbing her temple with her fingers, conceding to the Guatemalan’s request and waving her off again.

The remaining girls gather back around the campfire.

“Alright, Amy and I will take the fourth name. Now remember, it’s the pieces of the record that we need, that’s where the clues are. We’ll meet first thing tomorrow afternoon in mine and Chloe’s dorm room for a status report, okay?” Aubrey instructs.

“Alright, let’s hit it bitches.” Fat Amy exclaims with enthusiasm.

“Ladies, I uh… well… thanks for doing this.” The blonde says genuinely, grateful for each of the girls helping her and Amy with this. Chloe and Stacie both give her reassuring smiles while Beca, who is standing directly to her left, gives her a supportive pat on the shoulder. The six women turn to start heading away from the campsite.

“Wait, Aubrey, you forgot something.” Emily announces just before the reach the edge of the circle. Aubrey shifts her body back around towards the voice, an eyebrow raised. “You need to give the story a title.”

Aubrey looks around at the other girls, each having turned back toward her out of interest. The blonde steps forward to pick up the leather pouch filled with sand from inside the hollowed out stump next to the storyteller’s chair.

“I haven’t done this in awhile,” Aubrey chuckles, stepping closer to the fire, feeling the weight of the bag in her hands.

“Submitted for the approval of the Midnight Society,” she says, pausing to slip her right hand inside the bag to grab a full handful of the granular substance. “I call this story…” 

She pulls out the sand and drops it onto the fire, immediately putting the flames out and throwing the whole clearing into darkness. The other girls gasp in surprise and confusion.

“Woah.” Emily exclaims. “That’s, kind of not normal.”

An eerie feeling hovers in the air and Aubrey decides to place the bag back into its original spot within the tree stump. The society members back out of the clearing as a group, watching as the smoke from the once lit fire simmers away. They all collectively quicken their pace, walking a little tighter together than they did when they arrived earlier in the night, hoping to leave the woods as swiftly as possible.

Moments after the clearing empties, a small figure dressed in clothing from the turn of the century hops over to the fire ring and casually walks around it so their back is facing the storyteller’s chair. The figure raises its hands upward and ignites the fire again. The blaze casts a glow on the figure, revealing the same boy from Aubrey’s dream the night before. His face youthful, that of a 10-year old boy’s, but his eyes dark and menacing, and his features taking on a look of delighted evil as he watches the bouncing flames light up the area. He begins to cackle as the flames grow higher, the echoes of laughter carrying throughout the nighttime air, stretching wide over the miles of woods. As the group of girls reach the edge of the forest to return home for the night, they can all feel a shift in the atmosphere. It’s as if a warning is descending upon them.


	2. Part II: The General

**PART II: The General**

The following morning, Aubrey and Amy make their way over to a large home situated on private property. Aubrey had done some research when she got home last night after the meeting and easily found the address for Laing Candle, a retired military general, who luckily resided only 30 minutes out of the city.

Aubrey had parked her car about 20 feet from the gated fence, and she and Amy climbed out of the vehicle to approach the communications box and surveillance system out front. Fat Amy quickened her pace, wanting to be the one to press the giant button. Aubrey rolled her eyes at the childish antics of her younger cousin, but let her proceed to do so.

“Hello?” Amy says loudly, moving her face directly in view of the camera. Aubrey stands behind her, staring up at the gargantuan house that lie just beyond the metal gate.

“Hello in there!” Amy says a little louder, waving her hands wildly at the screen.

“Don’t be a goof.” Aubrey shrugs the Australian out of the way a bit.

“What? We’re on TV.” The gate mechanics shift loudly before slowly beginning to open, admitting the two girls entrance onto the property. The blondes begin making the trek up the long, winding driveway towards the two-story, French provincial home.

“Be calm, and less like your usual self. This man is a war hero.” Aubrey warns.

“This guy is a rich war hero.” Amy says as they approach the large double doors. “What’s his name?”

“Laing Candle. The oldest member of the original Midnight Society.”

Amy reaches over to ring the doorbell three times, stepping back to wait. She glances towards the giant stone-carved statue of a lion next to her before shifting her body to look back out towards the landscape behind them. The blonde spots a young boy with messy brown hair and ratty looking clothing standing about 30 yards away out in the lawn near the edge of the woods.

“Hey, check that out.” Amy nudges Aubrey to turn around.

“What?” Aubrey asks, a slight annoyance in her voice, not seeing anything. “What?!”

Amy looks confused at the now vacant space where the kid was standing not 2 seconds ago. “I thought I saw─” The thick wooden doors open behind the two women.

“Come on.” Aubrey leads them inside and Amy follows, giving one last look over her shoulder as she crosses the threshold. When they enter the large foyer, both women instantly notice the numerous historical artifacts lining walls, shelves and free-standing displays on the first floor of the home.

“Step in ladies, don’t be shy.” They are greeted by an older man in his mid-70s, dressed in a khaki uniform, wheeling himself closer to them in his wheelchair. “Yes, I can see your grandfather in both of you… Except for the slouch, of course.” He specifically addresses towards Amy. She immediately straightens her back then glances over to see Aubrey grinning at her.

“I’m very sorry to hear about his untimely demise. I never thought he’d go before me. Pity.”

“General Candle, sir, I-” Aubrey hesitates when she sees the man grinning slightly at her. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, dear, on the contrary… most your age neglect to address me with my proper title. It’s refreshing to not have to correct you.” He smiles.

“Well I should certainly know how to address a member of the military family, sir. My father is also a General, still active.” Aubrey says proudly.

“Well I thank him for his continued service for this great country.” General Candle says, his chest pushed out proudly, chin raised up.

“And we thank you for yours.” Aubrey nods politely with a smile. Amy rolls her eyes at the display, unnoticed by the pair.

“So how may I help you two?” The man asks.

“You were apart of the original Midnight Society, is that correct?” Aubrey asks, wanting to confirm her information.

“The Midnight Society…” General Candle takes a deep breath, allowing a brief smile to cross his face. “I haven’t thought about that team for some time.” He pauses, thinking over something to himself before addressing the two blonde women again.

“This way,” he says, wheeling off to his left towards a large set of doors, indicating for Aubrey and Amy to follow. Fat Amy mockingly salutes towards the General, and Aubrey smacks her arm in warning, holding up a finger to her face.

“What did I say about being childish?” She admonishes.

“Oh come on,” Amy whispers loudly. “He already seems like a total tool.” Aubrey rolls her eyes and walks off to follow the General’s path into a large office.

“That was an exceptional group, every last one of them.” Laing says, as he wheels through the doorway over to his oversized oak desk. “That’s how I like to remember them.” The man picks up a squared brown photo frame that sits at the edge of the desk. He holds onto it for a moment, looking at the details of the black and white picture.

“Here, take it. I have another.” He says, handing the photo frame to Amy, who accepts it readily. 

“Wicked.” Amy says looking at the photo, staring at the young faces of three men and two women, the founding members of their society.

“You’re slouching again!” The General yells, startling both women, who immediately straighten their backs to attention. The man wheels himself around to the other side of his desk.

“Um, so, General, sir…” Aubrey begins, quietly, wanting to ease into the conversation. “We’re here because─”

“Speak up, miss!” General Candle declares. “If you’ve got anything worth saying, say it.”

“Okay, we’re here about the Silver Sight.” Aubrey says firmly. The General startles significantly in his chair, his hands gripping the armrests while his face drains completely of color. Aubrey and Amy both look very concerned at his reaction.

“Why in the name of Sam Houston are you asking me about that?” The man says in a terrified voice.

“It was Gramp’s last request. He wants us to find it and destroy it.” Aubrey says.

“You know what it is, right?” Amy asks.

“The question is do _you_ know what it is?” He looks Amy dead in the eye. The emotion being directed towards her through the man’s eyes cause the blonde to look hesitantly towards her older cousin for reassurance.

“Um, sort of? It’s like this little evil charm thingy.” She replies with slight uncertainty.

“It’s the Devil’s own tool!” The man exclaims. “Go home and forget you ever heard about it.”

“We can’t. Our grandpa Gene─” Aubrey is cut off.

“You’ve got his piece of the record?” The General asks quickly.

“Well, we- we’re…” Amy starts, unsure of what to say, as the guy is starting to give off a lot of creepy vibes. Luckily Aubrey jumps in to help her out.

“We’re trying to track down all of the pieces. We’d like to have your piece, if we could.” Aubrey requests, hopefully. The man looks off to his right, in thought for a moment, worry etched on his features before looking back up at the two young women standing in front of his desk and nodding resolutely. He begins to wheel himself out from behind his desk over to a large sculpted statue of a Greek figure riding a horse, set atop a 3-foot high pillar box.

“I always thought something like this would happen.” He looks ominously at the statue while the girls remain positioned behind him. “Part of me wanted to pass on before I had to face this particular demon again.” The General states, thinking long and hard about the situation. Both cousins give each other a surreptitious look as they watch the man sit there in momentary silence.

“I have to dig it out of storage. Come back in a few hours, I’ll have it for you then.” He continues to look forward towards the statue he is sat beside, implying to the two woman that their time together has ended and they may leave.

“Thank you.” Aubrey says as they both turn to leave the dimly-lit office.

“I hope you know what you’ve gotten yourselves into. No one who has touched the Silver Sight has emerged undamaged.” He warns.

The two women share a glance before exiting the room and leaving the way they came in. They’ve reached the edge of the property, approaching the large metal gate once again when Amy speaks up.

“Generally speaking, I think the General’s a little whacked in the head.”

“It doesn’t matter, as long as we get his piece of the record.” Aubrey states, leading the way through the gate and back to her car. Fat Amy turns to pull the gate closed together when she sees the boy from earlier standing amongst the trees 40 yards away. They stare at one another for a moment before the boy takes off running and Amy is left standing there, quite confused and a little creeped out. She shakes her head and makes her way over to Aubrey’s car, and together they set off back towards town.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Aggie, Aubrey and Amy’s grandmother, sits comfortably on one end of the couch in her living room. She’s looking through photographs of her and her late husband that she decided to pull out of storage earlier in the morning. She found one in particular, an old grainy-colored image of her and Gene standing next to the first car they bought together back in 1961, a powdered blue Ford Starlight. She thinks about how handsome Gene had looked back then, standing there proudly, his arm wrapped around her younger self’s waist.

The kind older woman sets the photo down back into the delicate shoebox to grab another when she suddenly hears the knob of the front door being twisted and pushed open. She looks up in curiosity, not expecting anyone to be coming over.

“Aubrey?” No response.

“Amy?” A beat of silence occurs again before she hears the distinct sound of the front door shutting.

Aggie places the box of photographs gently on the seat cushion next to her and rises from her spot to head into the hall. When she reaches the wide door frame between the living room and foyer, giving a clear view of the front door, she finds the space empty. Just to make herself feel safe, the auburn-haired woman walks over to the front door and firmly clicks the lock in place to secure it. When she turns around to head back into the living room, she is met with the sight of a strange, tall and masked figure standing ten feet in front her, causing her to scream in fright.

“Who are you!?” What are you doing in my house?” She yells, frightened, pressing her back against the edge of the wall as she inches towards the staircase to her right. “My granddaughter will be back any second!” She exclaims before taking off as quickly as she can up the stairs. She may be 76 years old, but she’s been smart enough to stay active her whole life and maintain her mobility. The unknown person pursues after her up the staircase.

As she ascends the stairs as fast as she can, she momentarily trips on the half landing before regaining her footing and reaching for the full basket of laundry that sits there. She picks up the basket and heaves it at the figure as they approach her, knocking them back a few steps to slow down their advance. She uses their momentary distraction to her advantage and runs up the remaining steps, straight into her bedroom at the top of the landing, screaming as she slams the heavy door shut. Thankful that the home she lives in is an older one with sturdy wooden doors and locks on the inside, she barricades herself in the bedroom, listening to the person on the other side make a significant amount of noise as they rummage through her home. 

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Aubrey had arranged for all six girls to meet up in hers and Chloe’s dorm room on campus at noon that afternoon to give each other updates and gameplan from there.

“Geez, what stinks?” Beca exclaims, her face scrunched up in displeasure as an awful odor fills the medium-sized dorm room the girls currently occupy. Beca sits at Aubrey’s computer while Chloe sits on the bed to her right, and Fat Amy hovers over her left shoulder. Aubrey paces around the room, writing notes down on a small notepad, while Stacie stares into a small vanity mirror, wiping a dirt smudge from her left cheek.

“Fine! Okay, I’m guilty.” The tall brunette sighs, dusting off her filthy pale blue long-sleeved shirt, and spinning around from the mirror to approach Aubrey. “Honestly Bree, I thought you said this was going to be a dangerous mission. Not a dirty one.” Stacie whines and Aubrey laughs a little.

“Well at least you’re getting closer to finding a piece of the record.” The blonde says encouragingly. The senior exhales loudly before stepping over towards Chloe, who sits on the edge of Aubrey’s bed. The brunette lands heavily on the mattress, patting the other girl on the shoulder.

“Ew, gross. No offense Stace, but you stink.” The redhead apologizes, and reluctantly stands up to move away from the pungent smelling girl. Stacie looks slightly offended, but understands because, yeah, she really reeks. The brunette pulls her satchel bag into her lap reaches into it, looking for a specific item to solve her odorous problem.

“Hey check this,” Fat Amy starts. Stacie finds the small travel-sized bottle of body spray in her bag and spritzes herself with it a few times. 

“Midnight Society, 1947.” The Australian says, sitting next to Stacie on the bed, handing over the old photograph that she and Aubrey collected earlier in the morning.

“Wow.” Stacie looks amazed as she gazes at the old picture, studying the faces before looking back up at Amy to say something. Before she can get a word out, the brunette sees the look of disgust on the other girl’s face as Amy wafts her right hand in front of her face to clear out the smell.

“Uhg, okay…” Stacie stands up in a huff, deciding to distance herself from the others and sit on the opposite side of the room.

“So how did you guys do?” Aubrey asks, walking over to Beca and Chloe at her computer.

“Not good at all.” Chloe says dejectedly, as Beca sighs in frustration. “We spent like an hour online searching everything we could possibly think of. We went to the library…”

“Who knew those still existed.” Beca cuts in. Chloe rolls her eyes at the girl’s joke and continues talking.

“We’ve called everywhere, Aubrey. But we can seem to find any record of Bruce McGorrill.”

“Well he’s not a ghost or a secret operative. There has to be some kind of trace somewhere of him, I would think. So keep looking, okay?” The blonde says. Chloe nods and sits back down next to Beca as Aubrey receives a call on her cell. Seeing the name that lights up, she answers it quickly, but gets cut off before being able to say hello.

“Aubrey?”

“Grandma? Is everything okay?” The blonde notices the fear in her grandmother’s voice.

“There’s someone in the house!” Aggie exclaims, trying to remain quiet as she hides behind her bed, opposite the now barricaded door, clutching the landline to her ear. She can still hear the person who broke into her home, knocking around items on the second floor landing, clearly looking for _something_. 

“I’m afraid he’s─” Aggie begins to say before hearing the line go dead. “Hello?” She says in a high-pitched, panicked tone.

“Hello?” Aubrey repeats into her phone, an extremely worried expression on her face.

“Hello?” Aggie says again, hoping she was still connected to her granddaughter. Her bedroom door starts to shake rapidly, as the intruder begins to bang into it and force it open.

“Grams!” Aubrey says with an increased volume. “Are you there?” She continues to yell loudly into the phone speaker before giving up and seeing that the call had dropped.

“What’s wrong?” Amy says from her seated position on Aubrey’s bed, concern laced on her face.

“Come on Amy, we need to go.” The two blondes race out of the dormitory, and run as quickly as they can to Aubrey’s car to rush over to their grandmother’s house.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Aubrey breaks all kinds of speeding laws, but luckily enough for the two women, they go uncaught as she skids to a quick stop out front of the large home. Both blondes jump out at a rapid pace and race up the porch steps, Aubrey being the first to break through the unlocked front door.

“Grandma?!” Aubrey shouts, as they enter the foyer, noticing the mess on the floor. Books had been thrown about, picture frames lay on the hardwood with broken glass, plants had been tipped over. The women rush into the study off to the right, seeing further destruction of the house: picture frames tilted crooked on the walls, tables and chairs flipped over.

“Grams, where are you?” Amy cries out with worry.

“It’s Aubrey and Amy, where are you?” Aubrey projects loudly. They hear a faint creak from somewhere in the house.

“Girls?” The grandmother cries out, softly, unsure of the presences in the house.

“Upstairs.” Aubrey says, pointing in the direction of the staircase and motioning for Amy to move that way quickly. The two girls bound up the stairs as fast as possible, reaching their terrified looking grandmother as she opens her bedroom door fully to see them.

“Grandma, are you okay?” Amy says, reaching the woman first, whom reaches down to pick up items off the floor and place them back on the shelf in the hallway.

“I’m fine,” the older woman says, not sounding entirely fine. “Someone broke into the house, I locked myself in the bedroom.” She continues to say, fear still lining her voice. Amy grabs onto her grandmother’s right hand to try and comfort her while Aubrey looks around at the chaos and mess left in the hallway.

“They destroyed my home!” Aggie cries, tears forming in her eyes, as Amy leads her towards the staircase to head back down.

“Did you see them?”

“Yes, but I was so frightened, and he was wearing a mask.”

“Are you sure it was a man?” Aubrey grabs her grandmother’s other hand to aid Amy in helping the distressed woman down into the living room to sit.

“Yes, that I could not mistake.”

“What did he want?” Amy asks, trying to figure out who would do this, and how quickly she could find them and feed them to crocodiles for hurting her grandmother.

“Oh, it was horrible. He kept pounding at the door, I thought he was going to break it down! He kept yelling that he wanted Gene’s piece of the record.” The three women reach the bottom of the stairs and Aggie finally sees the destruction done to her home. 

“Oh my gosh.” She gasps, raising her hands to her mouth in shock and walking into the living room, distraught with emotion. Aubrey and Amy hang back in hallway.

“Okay, this just got a lot more serious.” Amy says, grabbing on to Aubrey’s arm.

“I’ll call the police and stay here with grandma,” the older girl instructs. “Ames, go back and get that _thing_ we were after.”

“Yeh, sure thing.”

“Good, go now.”

“Wait, are you sure?” Amy asks, hesitating and not wanting to leave her grandmother behind after what she just went through, but knowing how important going back to the general’s house is.

“Yes. Go!” Aubrey orders, with one final look. Amy nods and rushes out the door, determined to get back as soon as possible. Aubrey walks into the study, watching as her grandmother delicately picks up a broken picture frame, being careful not to cut her hand on the glass. She sadly wipes off a few fragments with her sleeve.

“Hey grandma…” Aubrey says softly, not wanting to startle her grandmother, but being unsuccessful, nonetheless. Aggie whips her head around in a fright, looking back towards her granddaughter who stood in the doorway.

“What’s SO important about a broken piece of record!” She cries angrily. Aubrey approaches her slowly, reaching into her jacket pocket as she steps closer, pulling out the same slips of parchment Aggie handed her just yesterday.

“I think you need to read this.” She says, holding out the folded up pieces of paper to her grandmother. “It’s grandpa Gene’s last story.” The older women looks at her granddaughter with a curious expression before gently taking the papers from her. As she moves to sit in the living room and read her late husband’s writings, Aubrey pulls out her cell to call the police.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Amy walks hastily up to the security camera that she and Aubrey stood in front of just a few hours ago, before this whole situation they were in turned completely, and chaotically, messy. She waves angrily into the lens before pressing the call button harshly, three times.

This was just supposed to be a simple, last request from her grandfather. Now there was somebody terrorizing her grandmother. _For what!_ She thought. Amy was extremely protective of her grandmother, and was ready to fight anyone who got in her face right now.

“Hey in there, open up!” The Aussie yells out. “It’s me!” She pauses for a moment, trying to steady her mind and rethink her approach, as this man wasn’t entirely receptive to her existence earlier.

“I mean, it’s me, General.” She salutes the camera. “I’m here for the record, sir.” The blonde waits impatiently, pushing her face closer to the camera in hopes that would somehow alert someone in the house to her presence, tapping on the lens in the process. After a solid 30 seconds of no action, the blonde struts over to the center of the black metal gate, reaching for the spikes at the top and pressing forward in an attempt to open the gate. To her surprise, the gate opens widely for her, allowing her entrance onto the seemingly deserted property. 

Amy quickens her pace up the long and winding driveway, reaching the front door rapidly. She hops up the short three steps and bangs the knocker on the large and thick double doors. She waits a moment before knocking again, louder this time. When no movement can be heard after a minute of standing out front, she tries the doorknob for good measure, groaning in frustration when she is unable to turn it due to it being locked. 

Just then, a small gust of wind blows at the girl’s back, causing the blonde to hike her jacket collar up a little higher. She’s startled from the silence surrounding her when a youthful voice sounds from behind her.

“Let me try.” A small boy with shaggy, shoulder-length brown hair and wearing a dark tattered looking coat and pants says to Amy. He springs up quickly to stand in front of the blonde on the front steps.

“Are you sure you want to go in?” He asks.

“Well yeah, he expecting me.” Amy responds, not really knowing who this kid is, but maybe assuming he’s a grandson or something like that.

“Okay. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” The kid says, ominously beginning to reach for the door handle. Amy stops him with her arm.

“Yeh, I tried that kid. It’s locked.” She says, as if it’s obvious she would’ve tried that already. The kid simply grins at her before placing his hand on the knob and turning, successfully, pushing the door wide open.

“Wait, how did you─” she starts to say before the boy rushes through the doorway. “Hey! Who are you?” Amy follows through, entering the large and surprisingly empty foyer. She twists her head in every direction, trying to catch sight of where that kid went, because he could _not_ have moved _that_ quickly. She literally just saw him.

As Amy steps further into the large house, the door slams shut behind her, making her jump around in fright. It may be broad daylight out, but this whole situation is giving her an extremely creepy horror movie vibe.

 _Maybe CR had the right idea._ She thinks.

“Hello?” Amy calls out, inching her way further into the home. She’s sort of an invasive person, not really one for caring about etiquette, but even she knows it’s a little intrusive just wandering into a stranger’s empty home without a proper invitation. “General?” She wanders past the staircase, taking the same path she and Aubrey took earlier, heading towards the man’s office in hopes of finding him there.

Amy places her hand on the exterior doorknob to the General’s office, twisting it to open the creaky door and stick her head in. She steps inside the heavily decorated room slowly, shutting the door behind her. Seeing no one else in the room, the Australian takes a moment to inspect some of the pieces of art placed about in the room, running her hand over the base of a pillar holding up a 3rd century bronzed Greek statue. She takes a few steps backwards, starting to rotate her body around, when she suddenly comes into contact with a pint-sized suit of armor, knocking it down to the ground and causing a loud crash. 

“This is getting way too creepy for me.” Amy lets out a deep breath before bending over to pick the item up and place it back in its original position on the small table. Just as she’s righting herself to set it back up, she nearly crashes into a fast-approaching figure.

“Ah!” A familiar female voice cries out. 

“Emily?”

“Amy?” The tall freshman brunette says, confusion etched on her face. 

“What are you doing here?” They both say at the same time.

“I came to look for-  
“I’m here to get-”

“But you’re supposed to be-”

“Look!” Emily finally cuts off their mirrored conversation. “I’m _so_ sorry, I nearly ran you over just now, but I’m looking for…” She trails off, rotating her head around the room, her eyes searching for something specific. Amy maintains her curious expression, staring directly at Emily, when the girl finally spots what she’s looking for. “That!”

Emily runs over to a picture frame hanging on the furthest wall from them, removing it from the hook and holding it up for her friend to see, smiling in triumph.

“This is her, right? Donna Tilton?” Emily asks Amy, holding up the sketched drawing of a woman in the frame she just grabbed, comparing it to the 1947 photograph that had been left in Aubrey’s dorm room earlier in the afternoon. She points to the young blonde girl standing in the back row of the photo, furthest on the left.

“Uhm, I mean it looks like her.” Amy says, not really knowing why Emily is here or needs that drawing.

“Excellent!” Emily exclaims happily before turning back towards the door she came through.

“Hey wait, you can’t just take that!” Amy calls out to the younger girl.

“Yes I can. It doesn’t belong to him. I’ll tell you about it later.” Emily rushes the words out of her mouth quickly before sprinting back out the door, leaving one confused Australian in her wake.

“I know why you’re here.” A disembodied voice makes the blonde turn around so quickly, she almost gives herself whiplash. She spots the boy from before, standing confidently behind the General’s large desk.

“You shouldn’t be playing the way you are playing.” He states, ambiguously.

“What do you mean?” Amy asks, approaching the desk.

“Cause you’re not good enough.”

“Hey there smallfry, I’ll have you know I’m amazing at _everything_ that I do.” She brags, not enjoying the cockiness coming from this unidentified kid.

“Maybe so, but not at this.” He counters.

“Oh yeh? And what’s that?” Amy leaps towards the desk to grab the kid, but he quickly moves past her, unnaturally quick.

“You’re not good enough to handle the power.” Amy whips her head around to see the boy sitting up on top of the fireplace mantle, unsure of how he possibly could’ve gotten up there so fast. Amy takes a few steps towards the kid and is surprised when he immediately hops down, almost disappearing for a moment.

“Hey!” She turns to find the boy standing in the corner of the large office. Amy halts her movements, choosing just to watch the kid as he walks slowly towards a red velvet curtain that hovers in front of a doorway that she hadn’t noticed was there before. 

“If you still want to try, what you’re looking for… is right in here.” The kid tilts his head towards the curtain, a smirk lining his smug face.

“What’s in there?” Amy asks quickly. “The Silver Sight?” The boy simply laughs.

“Why don’t you see for yourself.” He says before gripping the handle of the door, pushing it open and stepping quickly through it. 

Amy stares at the now empty space where the creepy kid once stood, taking a moment to question whether walking through that door was a smart move or not. If she chose not to go through it and see what lay beyond, then she’d have to walk out of here with no record piece, and explain to Aubrey why she didn’t get it. If she did decide to step through it, she could die and Aubrey may still never get the piece of record. And maybe that last thought was a little overdramatic for her, but her gut feeling is flying off the charts right now and every sensical bone in her body is telling her to run as fast as she can out of this horrible house. But her curiosity decides to punch her gut in the face, because before she realizes it, she’s stepping through the curtain into the uncharted room.

What the blonde is met with is quite the site. It’s a large and long museum-type room, adorned with countless numbers of historical artifacts displayed in enclosed glass cases; some items hung upon the wall, or lay atop short pedestals littered around the wide room. Directly in front of the doorway, however, were two rows of life-sized statues displaying different kinds of warriors from different regions and centuries, completely decked out in authentic gear and weaponry, separated by a wide red carpet. There are ten in total, five on each side, facing each other as they stand on foot-high platforms. Amy makes her way further into the room, gazing up at the statues in awe, first passing by a Roman Legionary and an ancient Chinese soldier. As she glances further down the line, her eye catches one item in particular, resting on a stand atop a large, wooden-carved pillar.

“The record.”

 _I thought that general dick-wad said he had to dig it out of storage._ Amy thinks briefly before wandering closer to her objective, gulping a little heavier than normal as she passes by each of the statues, her nerves getting the best of her. She makes it half way down the aisle when she hears a startling pitch of laughter pierce the air around her, causing her to spin around back towards the door she came through. After taking a moment, she turns back towards the record piece, but veers off to her left, stopping at a medieval suit of armour. She eyes it cautiously, slowly raising her trembling hand toward the helmet. The blonde takes a deep breath before quickly lifting the mask upward, revealing an empty shell.

Fat Amy exhales deeply, shaking her head at how ridiculous she was being. She shuts the mask back down in its original position before turning back around and continuing her journey down the aisle. So determined to grab and go, she fails to notice that as she walks away, the head of the suit of armour slowly turns toward her position, causing a small metal squeak.

She zigzags past a Renaissance soldier holding a very sharp looking sword, and a Revolutionary War soldier holding a bayonet rifle, taking cautious and calculated steps as she advances deeper into the room. Suddenly, she hears a voice call out:

“You better turn around!”

The last thing Amy sees is a thin sword flying at her as she dodges the attack of the Renaissance soldier. She yells in surprise, witnessing the Medieval Knight step down off it’s pedestal and shift it’s metal body directly toward her, raising it’s broadsword as it advances. Amy quickly picks up a shield laid at the feet of the Cataphract stood frozen next to her, grabbing a sword from another display, just at the Knight’s sword comes crashing down.

Amy defends herself against the onslaught of maneuvers the Knight delivers, finally using her body weight to push the shield into the Knight and knock it down to the ground. The blonde only gets a moment to recover when she notices another, but different looking Knight, approach her. She quickly ducks and dodges to avoid the swipe of it’s sword. After a handful of shield defenses, Amy swings her own sword out haphazardly, managing to slice the head off the Knight, revealing a decayed skull inside, as the armour falls to the ground with a large crash.  
She looks at the pile, both in shock and victory, before noticing the Renaissance soldier standing back up very quickly. She makes the speedy decision to make a break for it back towards the door she came in, dropping her shield and body-checking a Shogun as she does so. She reaches the door, only to find it locked. Amy pushes against the handles frantically, desperately hoping not to be trapped inside this room, and unbelievably certain that if she doesn’t get it to open, she will very likely die in here. As soon as the blonde turns her head to check behind her, a spear is thrown her way, landing six inches deep into the door, barely missing her shoulder. She looks on with wide and frightened eyes, unable to comprehend the fight for her life right now.

“What the HELL did I sign up for?!” She screams out.

She catches the head of a WWII soldier with full gas mask on turning towards her and stepping down to the ground, ready for a fight. Not willing to go out so easily, Fat Amy makes a decision. She comically wipes a hand in front of her face, going from scared to confident instantaneously, turning to rip the spear from the door.

“Alright, you warrior bitches, let’s dance.”

Fat Amy lets out a warrior’s cry as she charges, spear-tip forward, towards the WWII soldier. They exchange blows with one another, Amy doing a good job of blocking everything sent her way. She manages to evade a swipe at her head, pulling her body backwards before swinging her staff upwards and into the face of the soldier, knocking it to the ground indefinitely. She grins triumphantly before having a chain wrapped tightly around the spear she’s holding, pulling it out of her grasp by a Shogun. With nothing left to defend herself with, she raises her fists up as protection, guarding her face as the Shogun whips the chain around. Luckily for her, just as she ducks her head, the chain wraps itself around the neck of the Renaissance soldier, strangling it, and bringing it down to the ground. Taking advantage of the distraction, Amy grabs a large net from the WWII soldier’s display, throwing it quickly over the two warriors to incapacitate them.

Thinking that she managed to best all the soldiers thrown her way, she breathes heavily through a wide smile, taking a moment to bend over and catch her breath.

“That all you got creepy little dude?” Amy boasts, stretching her arms out wide as she takes a couple steps forward towards the piece of record that sit about 20 feet in front of her.

As if on cue, Amy hears one large stomping noise right after another, freezing her in place. She squeezes her eyes together, cursing herself for taunting the evil spirit that is clearly manipulating all these things to stop her from getting the record. She slowly turns her body to look over her shoulder, eyes going comically wide as she sees a gigantic 8-foot tall, 400-lb Mongolian soldier holding a large saber, charging her way.

“Holy shit!” Fat Amy turns on a dime, sprinting as fast as she possibly can in the opposite direction to get away from this monster. All she can manage to do is scream in fear as she barrels down the aisle, leaping over fallen soldiers and towards the record piece, just hoping that she can get her hands on it and somehow escape this room of terrors.

The remaining distance disappears with each footstep. Amy reaches out her hand, inches away from the pedestal, lunging as the Mongol closes in on her and raises its weapon to swing downward. Just as the tip of the saber comes within inches of the blonde’s head, she snags the piece of record from it’s holding stand and ducks as quickly to the left as possible.

There’s a moment just before Amy thinks she’s about to be beheaded, when the atmosphere shifts. Prepared to run out a second door that’s she just spotted in the corner of the room beyond the record display, she quickly turns around towards the chaos, only to find the room entirely reset to its original form. Each and every soldier is precisely and pristinely back in it’s position, as if none of it ever happened. Amy can’t believe what she is seeing, eyes stretched wide in confusion. She whips her head back and forth, looking at each display, just waiting for one of them to reanimate. When they don’t seem to be making any sort of movements, she glances down at the half-record piece in her hands, reading the inscription on the label.

“ _Not all the eyes are brown._ What the heck does that mean?”

As she stands there, a miniscule part of her brain tries to convince her she just hallucinated that whole thing, but she knows in her heart that she just survived a battle and needed to get the hell out of there.

Not taking a second longer, she sprints down the long hall, out the doors she came in, through the foyer and out the front door, running as fast as she ever has in her life. Just as she leaps down the front cement steps, ready to take off down the driveway, a voice stops her from behind.

“I warned you!” Amy turns on the spot to see the boy from earlier standing on the front porch she just jumped off. “It only gets worse from here.” He says with an sinister expression.

Amy stares at the boy for a few indecisive moments, then finally concedes to continue running away... back down the gravel driveway, jumping into Aubrey’s car. She slams the door shut, throws the gear in reverse and stomps on the gas to back out and drive off as quickly as possible, leaving a trail of dust rising up into the air behind her.

As the small yellow VW bug speeds down the road, the door to General Candle’s home slowly closes, the unknown boy no longer in sight.

 

_To Be Continued..._


	3. Part III: The Homecoming Queen

PART III: The Homecoming Queen

Emily had woken up relatively early that morning, wanting to get a jump start on researching the name Aubrey had given her the night before. It was easy for any of the girls to deduce that of the ones that remained to help on this mission, Emily was the most reluctant. The freshman girl just had a really hard time accepting that there were mystical aspects to this world they lived in, not wanting to believe in evil spirits. But the conviction in Aubrey’s eyes when she relayed all the information she had about her grandfather’s story, told her enough and made the girl want to help in any way she could. Of course, that didn’t ease the amount of fear coursing through her body even slightly.

Emily grabs her helmet from off the trunk that sits in the corner by her desk, tosses her shoes and a jacket on, and heads out the door to grab her scooter. She throws her right leg over the seat, situates herself and starts up the engine on the small vehicle. Her mother hadn’t been too keen on giving her daughter a car for her 16th birthday last month, so they came to agreement due to the need for Emily to get to and from places while her mother was busy at work, and they settled on a Vespa that would go just fast enough for the young girl to go down residential streets and get to school, but not fast enough to take the highway. The brunette simply rolled her eyes at her mother’s overbearing protectiveness at the time, but was grateful nonetheless to be receiving anything, gladly accepting the compromise. Making sure her helmet is secure underneath her chin, Emily pulls up the directions on her phone, places the device in her jacket pocket and the bluetooth earpiece in her right ear, setting off for her destination. 

It takes Emily maybe 25 minutes of travelling down some semi-deserted backroads before she finally arrives at the location that appears to be a junkyard. Throwing her scooter in park and dropping the kickstand down, she removes the helmet from her head and places it down on the back of her bike. She takes a few steps toward the chain link gate, stepping through mounds of wet mud. A small rainstorm had rolled in for a couple hours in the early morning, and the girl is certainly seeing the effects of it here.

Emily approaches the 8-foot gate, noticing several signage adorning the chain link, such as _Private Property_ and _KEEP OUT_ written in bright red paint on a couple wooden boards.

Looking down at the slip of paper she held in her hand then back up to the wooden sign that hung at the top of the fence, she confirms what she had written down: _33 Carroll Street_.

“This can’t possibly be right.” Emily says out loud. A light gust of wind flows through the air, mixing with the slight road noise as the occasional car drives by on the connecting road behind her. Emily sees a locked chain tied up around what looks like the only opening to the junkyard. She assess the fencing to see if there are any openings that she could squeeze in between. Once she concludes there is nothing of the sort, she resigns herself to her last option. Rolling back the sleeves of her jacket slightly, she takes a step backwards before throwing her momentum forward against the fence, using her upper body strength and height advantage to easily scale the structure and land gracefully on the other side.

Emily spends the next few minutes walking slowly down aisles of piled-high junk, spotting broken down cars, appliances, and other large miscellaneous items strewn about. Unable to locate any signs of life, she sighs quietly to herself.

“This is such a waste of time.” The girl says, briefly picking up up a rusty shovel before looking around at the deserted junkyard, passing an old and corroded bathtub covered by two broken metal headboards as she kept progressing further into the property.

“Hello? Anybody here?” She yells out. “I’m looking for─” Emily is suddenly cut off and startled by a loud bark. Glancing downward, she sees an unchained and aggressive looking Rottweiler stood eight feet in front of her.

Emily pauses all movements forward, ultimately freezing in place and glancing around through the corner of her eyes for somewhere to run to. She isn’t getting the friendliest vibes from this dog from the sound of it’s constant barking.

“Oh my stars,” Emily breathes out quietly, not wanting to spook the animal. The now very alert girl takes two slow steps backward, watching the dog advance on her in tandem.

“It’s okay sweetie,” Emily tries to say gently, but the dog only growls louder, staring her down.

“Alright Mr. Dog… if you want to bite me,” she says in as confident a voice as she can muster, “then you’re gonna have to catch me!” Emily takes off sprinting to her left, searching for something to jump on top or inside of. She serpentines through the messy aisles of garbage and junk, attempting to throw the trailing beast off. She slides over the hood of an old Chevy, but the dog simply defies gravity and leaps over the vehicle with ease, continuing to gain on the girl.

“Help! Someone help me, please!” Emily cries out, as she dodges left and right down small rows, running as quickly as she can, thankful for being a member of the cross-country team.  
The dog is rapidly gaining on her heels, and Emily doesn’t know how much longer before it catches her. She quick, but she knows she can’t outrun this animal.

“Anyone, help, this dog, it-it won’t stop!” Emily yells in fear, not finding any place to take cover, she rounds the corner of bunch of old detached car doors, when suddenly a man in a red and black plaid jacket appears in her sight.

“Oh my gosh, sir! Help me please, stop the dog!” She screams, running behind him for cover, latching onto his left arm in fear. The man is completely taken aback, uncertain of who this strange girl is.

“Woah there, what’s your problem there girly?” He asks confused. Emily remains hiding behind the man, ducking down and still gripping his elbow. “Well whatever it is, it’s gone now.”

Emily slowly looks around his shoulder only to see a now empty row of junk looming in front of her, the dog nowhere to be found, the wind blowing through a bunch of stray weeds covering the junk cars.

“How come you don’t have a _‘Beware of Dog’_ sign out front or something?!” Emily exclaims.

“Cause I ain’t got no dog,” the man says in a slight southern accent. He begins to walk off in the direction he was heading before Emily ran into him. She only just now notices that he’s walking with a tall staff-like device with a fan attached to the top of it, something he appears to be using to assist him with the limp he’s walking with.

Emily watches him advance ahead, taking a moment to confusedly look around her and down a few aisles to double check the dog was truly gone.

“What just happened?” Emily asks herself, her heart still beating a mile a minute.

The young brunette shifts her head back towards the man she just literally ran into, noticing that he gained quite the distance on her. Not wanting to be left behind in case that wild dog comes back, she sprints off in his direction to catch up.

“Excuse me, sir! Wait. I-I’m looking for someone!” Emily calls out, slightly out of breath as she comes up behind the limping man who looks to be in his late-60s.

“Here?” He laughs. “Good luck.”

“This is 33 Carroll Street, right?”

“Kid, I got any piece of junk that’s been made in the past fifty years. But I’m fresh out of people. Now get.” The older man waves her off dismissively and continues walking ahead. 

“Her name’s Donna Tilton.” Emily says. The man freezes in place, whipping his head around to the now wide-eyed brunette, who has become a little startled at his reaction.

“Why you lookin’ for her?” The man asks, a little aggressively.

“Uh, um, well, s-see, I’m part of this club, a-and we’re looking for it’s old members.” Emily stutters out. The man continues to fix her with a deep and unsettling stare.

“It’s okay, really. I-I’m not trying to make any trouble or anything.” Emily tries to reassure.

“Are you talkin’ about that Midnight Society or something or other?” 

“Yes, that’s it!” Emily says excitedly, before her expression drops just as quickly. “Unless that’s a bad thing, then nope, I’m not.” The young girl gestures with her hands wildly. The man eyes her up before making a decision.

“Come on.” He says, turning back around to continue on his previous path.

After a few more minutes of walking, the pair reach a tiny wooden building, and the man pulls out his keys to open the door and lead them inside.

“Step into my office.” The still unidentified man says. “Sorry about the mess, secretary’s day off.” He jokes, reaching to pick up a stack of files to clear a space for Emily to sit, and throwing the files onto the floor. The space, Emily observes, is as equally messy as the junkyard that lay outside, but she appreciates the kind gesture and takes a seat on the now empty chair as the man hobbles over to his fridge.

“So uh, how’d you get this address?” He asks, opening the door and pulling out a beer.

“Oh, I um, just talked to a few people, you know?” Emily responds.

“Ah, smart kid.” He says, shutting the refrigerator door.

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“On if you know Donna Tilton or not. Mister...”

“Call me Vince. And I know her, alright.” He says with a sadness in his voice, setting the beer down on his desk and handing Emily a soda. “Back in high school, Donna and I were the golden couple.” Emily smiles at that comment, she adores stories like this.

“Homecoming king, queen. The works. Ahh, she was a beaut. Never seen anyone since ever came close.” He grabs a beer opener, cracks the lid off and eases down into his chair to sit.

“So did you marry her?” She asks with a glimmer of hope in her voice, wishing for a happy ending.

“Nope. Ran into the worst string of bad luck you ever saw.” Emily grimaced at that. “I was a star athlete… broke my leg. Got in a car accident, and nearly bought the farm.” There’s a brief pause as Emily motions to speak, to say how terrible that was, when she’s cut off.

“Then a fire hit our house. Family got out, but… I ended up in the hospital.” Vince takes a swig from the beer, then picks at the label on his bottle. “It was as if this dark cloud of bad luck had settled over me, and then just decided to stay.”

“That’s really tough,” Emily empathizes.

“Yeah, but the worst was still to come.” Vince stands up and walks around his desk over to a filing cabinet, pulling the top drawer open and digging through it, looking for something specific. After a few moments he finds what he was in search of and pulls a thin book from the cabinet.

“While I was in the hospital, Donna started seeing another guy,” Vince says, flipping through some pages of the book.

“No way, while you were sick?” Emily says, taken aback.

“Well I can’t say I blame her. Nothing was going right for me.”

“But that still feels pretty cold.” Emily states, unappreciative of how someone could do that to a person they care about. Vince pays no attention to her comment and flips to a page in the old and dusty book.

“See there– that’s her.” Vince says, holding out the open pages to Emily, pointing to a picture in what the brunette now recognizes as an old high school yearbook. “Pretty as can be.”

Vince hands the yearbook over to Emily to look at as he shuffles back around to the other side of his desk. “I was gonna try and get her back, but… before I got out, she went… driving with her new boyfriend.” The man says ominously, leaning his hands onto the edge of the desk.

“There was an accident.” He continues, sadly. Emily looks up, a tear starting to form in her eye. “Only one of them made it.”

“Please tell me it was Donna.” Emily asks, almost begs the man. Vince simply holds Emily’s teary gaze before subtly shaking his head and dropping his eyes in defeat.

As the two inhabitants of the small shack share a moment of silent commiseration, outside in the junkyard, something was stirring in the air. A force was settling in over the figures like a dark storm. A crow caws in the distance as the wind picks up, rattling the rusty chain attached to an old black 1980 Lincoln Continental town car that sat on top of a tow lift. The wheels suddenly and mysteriously shift, emitting a loud grinding squeak into the empty junkyard.

“Tragic huh.” Vince says quietly, closing up the yearbook Emily had handed back to him, and sitting down at his desk. “This is gonna sound nuts, but I gotta tell ya…” He prompts, looking Emily square in the eye. “It almost felt like there was some kind of force at work, trying to keep us apart.”

The busted up car that sat outside, directly in front of the small building, continues to shift in place on the ramp, the tires squealing as they move back and forth, the car rolling forward a few inches.

“I’m really sorry to bring up such bad memories for you.” Emily says as she stands from her seat, turning to leave. Clearly there was nothing here for her and she’s hit a dead end on finding Donna Tilton’s piece of the record. She hasn’t quite figured out yet what to tell Aubrey when she sees everyone this afternoon for their meeting. Before her hand reaches the doorknob, Vince calls out to her.

“Wait, w-where are you going?” 

“I need to go tell my friends that Donna’s gone.” Emily says with a sad grimace. She opens the door to the shack, taking a step outside.

“Wait!” Vince calls out to her again, standing up from his seat to catch the brunette before she leaves.

In the distance, as Emily stands in the open doorway, the chain holding back the large car suddenly snaps, allowing the monstrous vehicle to barrel down the ramp towards the unsuspecting girl.

“You haven’t heard the whole story,” Vince says, placing a hand on the young girl’s shoulder.

“I don’t need to. I got the message. She–” Emily halts herself mid-sentence when a squealing sound begins to grow louder. “What’s that noise?” Emily asks, scrunching up her face at the man. He leans over Emily’s shoulder just as she turns her head to the left to look out the door. He eyes and mouth widen in fright as she sees a large black car careening towards them at full speed, moments away from crashing into them.

“Look out!” She screams, pushing the older man out of the way just in the nick of time as the vehicle barrels through the front of the shack, destroying the front wall and leveling several shelves, filing cabinets and other miscellaneous objects in its path before coming to a stop. 

Emily and Vince push a small shelving unit off of them and untangle themselves from some fallen rope when they see the last remaining panel of the front of the small house come crashing down to the floor.

“Oh my stars.” Emily says, still shaken about her near-death experience.

“I know what this is…” Vince says, terror laced in his voice as he pushes past Emily to step further outside and away from the now totaled building. “It’s coming after me again!”

“What is?”

“The Silver Sight, it’s back!” He exclaims. Emily’s eyes expand at his declaration.

“Leave me alone!!” Vince screams up towards the sky, as if pleading to some invisible entity. “LEAVE ME ALONE! YOU’VE RUINED MY LIFE, WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT?!”

“You know about the Silver Sight?” Emily asks him quickly. “That’s what I’m looking for.” 

“Don’t! Don’t even go near it,” Vince yells, pushing past Emily and back inside the totaled office to grab his now bent up walking staff from underneath a pile of papers. “I’m telling you, kid. Every bit of bad luck I have is because of that _monster_. Leave it alone!” He begins walking away from Emily and his trashed office.

“D-did Donna ever tell you about a record?” Emily calls out, desperate for anything to help her continue her search, now fully believing how real and dangerous this whole situation is. Vince freezes in place, turning slowly back around to face the young girl. “I mean, a piece of a record, that somebody gave her. It’s really important.”

Taking a few steps closer to the clearly shaken brunette, Vince reaches into his slightly unbuttoned jacket and pulls out the chain that hung around his neck, revealing a small piece of record that dangled on the small beaded links. 

“That’s it, that’s the record!” Emily’s eyes light up, her gaze not leaving the record piece that Vince held firmly in his hand. She begins to reach for it when the man takes a step away from her.

“Oh no,” he grips the record piece tighter, holding it away from the eager girl. “It’s the only thing I’ve got left of Donna’s.” He says, desperately.

“But I have to have it,” Emily pleads.

“What for?” The older man asks, skeptically.

“Because we’re trying to find this Silver Sight thing and destroy it. And all we know is that the key to doing that lies on _that_ record. Plus if it’s still hurting people, I mean, maybe you can help us out to put a stop to it?” Vince thinks on Emily’s request.

“I’ll make you a deal. You do something for me, and I’ll give this to you.” He motions to the record piece.

“Yes, anything! What do you want?” Emily agrees quickly, not wanting to lose out on her only chance to get that piece.

“When I was in the hospital, all those years ago, I drew a picture of Donna.” Vince starts to explain.

“You want me to get the picture? Okay, no problem, where is it?”

“It was stolen from me, by the same guy who stole Donna… Laing Candle.” Vince says with a distaste in his mouth.

“Laing Candle?” Emily responds, feeling like that name sounded so familiar to her when it hits her. “Oh, he was part of the original Midnight Society!”

“Yeah. Get me back that drawing, and I’ll give you the record.”

“Deal.” Emily says, shaking the man’s hand. She glances down at the watch on her left wrist and sees how late the time is. “Oh shoot, I have to be somewhere. But I’ll track down that picture for you, I promise.” The girl states with conviction.

“Well you know where to find me, kid.”

Emily takes off back towards the gate she came in. She was supposed to meet up with all the girls at Aubrey and Chloe’s dorm at noon, and it’s already five minutes til. Unfortunately she was a 30 minute drive away from campus, so she would be quite late. But, she managed to find her record piece, which Aubrey will be happy about. Now she just needs to track down the object to actually trade for it. How hard could that be? 

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

Thirty minutes later, Emily is wandering down the long hall to Aubrey and Chloe’s dorm room when she hears a loud voice yell out about ten feet ahead of her.

“Come on Amy, we need to go.” Two blondes race out of the dormitory, nearly running over Emily in the process as the youngest member of the group arrives at the dorm room.

“Easy guys.” Emily holds up her hands in defense, but the two blondes just continue their frantic path, sprinting down the hall and out of sight.

“Why are they− Oh God, what’s with that smell?” Emily says, disgusted, holding her hand up to plug her nose.

“Stacie’s been in the sewer,” Beca laughs over her shoulder. Stacie glares at the smaller brunette sitting at the computer desk.

“Nooo, it smells more like bad perfume.” Emily claims.

“That’s it!” Stacie says irritated, standing abruptly from her seat. “If anyone wants me, I’ll be hanging with the stinky mole people.” The brunette turns on a dime and pushes past Emily to leave the dormitory room, Beca snickers as the leggy brunette slams the door shut.

Emily walks over to Chloe at the desk when an object catches her eye.

“Hey, what’s this?” The freshman asks, picking up an old looking photograph.

“The original Midnight Society,” Chloe says with a smile.

“Which one’s Donna Tilton?!” Emily questions loudly.

“I…. _think_ that’s her.” The redhead says, pointing to a pretty blonde standing on the far left of the picture.

“Excellent! I can use this.” Emily says excitedly before running back out the door.

“We have the worst assignment, you know.” Emily can hear Beca grumble towards the redhead as she hurries further down the hall.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

It takes almost an hour on her scooter, but Emily finally reaches the large property on the outside of town belonging to Laing Candle. She’s so excited to get one step closer to collecting her piece of the puzzle that she fails to recognize the vehicle parked outside the gate she herself pulled up to moments ago. Dropping the kickstand on her bike, she makes her way through the opened gate entrance and up the long winding path to the massive home ahead.

Stepping up to the two large and sturdy wooden doors, Emily knocks four times in rapid succession before taking a step back and waiting to be welcomed in. After a beat of silence, the young girl knocks again, louder this time, only to have the door swing wide open for her without anyone opening it. Emily squints her eyes in suspicion at the eeriness of that action.

“Hello?” The girl calls out, leaning into door frame. Out of nowhere, a young boy with shaggy brown hair and scruffy looking clothes appears in the doorway.

“Hello, Emily.” He greets.

“Hi. My name is– wait, how did you know my name?” Emily questions.

“I know a lot of things,” the boy responds ominously. “Looking for a picture?”

“I–uh, well, yeah. But how did–”

“Come on.” The boy dashes off further into the house, leaving Emily standing alone and confused. She shakes her head and decides to enter the large home cautiously.

“Hey um, weird little kid? Where did you go?” Emily calls out, walking backward into the house, gauging her surroundings. A loud crash causes the tall brunette to jump and let out a small squeak.

“Come on, stop kidding around!” Emily cries out. She’s already had two major scares today, and frankly she does _not_ need any more. The freshman eyes a slightly ajar door off to the left of the main hall and decides to investigate, wondering if that’s where the crash came from. She pushes the door open and enters what looks like an office heavily decorated with historical artifacts. The brunette maneuvers her body in a 360 spin, taking the room in, when she nearly collides into something, or rather, someone.

“Ah!” Emily cries out. 

“Emily?”

“Amy?” The tall freshman brunette says, confusion etched on her face. 

“What are you doing here?” They both say at the same time.

“I came to look for-  
“I’m here to get-”

“But you’re supposed to be-”

“Look!” Emily finally cuts off their mirrored conversation. “I’m _so_ sorry, I nearly ran you over just now, but I’m looking for…” She trails off, rotating her head around the room, her eyes searching for something specific. Amy maintains her curious expression, staring directly at Emily, when the girl finally spots what she’s looking for. “That!”

Emily runs over to a picture frame hanging on the furthest wall from them, removing it from the hook and holding it up for her friend to see, smiling in triumph.

“This is her, right? Donna Tilton?” Emily asks Amy, holding up the sketched drawing of a woman in the frame she just grabbed, comparing it to the 1947 photograph that had been left in Aubrey’s dorm room earlier in the afternoon. She points to the young blonde girl standing in the back row of the photo, furthest on the left.

“Uhm, I mean it looks like her.” Amy says, not really knowing why Emily is here or needs that drawing.

“Excellent!” Emily exclaims happily before turning back towards the door she came through.

“Hey wait, you can’t just take that!” Amy calls out to the younger girl.

“Yes I can. It doesn’t belong to him. I’ll tell you about it later.” Emily rushes the words out of her mouth quickly before sprinting back out the door, leaving one confused Australian in her wake.

Emily makes her way back to the front entrance of the house, grabbing the door handle to yank it open when she’s met by the same boy from before standing on the other side, startling her.

“Oh my gosh, you have _got_ to stop doing that.” Emily says, breathing heavily.

“If you keep going, you’ll look like that picture.” The small boy comments cryptically.

“What do you mean?” Emily looks down at the photograph in her hands, only to see the beautiful face in the picture morph into a decaying skull. Emily gasps, dropping the frame in shock, not believing what she just saw. She looks around, noticing that the boy is no longer anywhere to be found, so she bends over to pick up the frame of the drawing and re-examine it, seeing that the image reflects Donna’s beautiful face once again.

“What in the frilly heck?” Emily asks to herself before wrapping the object under her arm and racing down the driveway back to her scooter. She wants to get this to Vince as quickly as possible and claim her piece of the record before anything else crazy happens. 

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

Just as promised, Emily shows back up to the junkyard, waving rapidly to Vince as she approaches the damaged office space. He almost seems surprised to see Emily again so soon.

“Hi, Vince, I uh, I found what you were looking for.” The young girl hands over the framed drawing to the older man. He takes it in his hands gently, a flood of emotion swimming in his face as he lifts it up to get a better look. He strokes a finger across the delicate image, allowing himself to briefly get lost in a once forgotten memory, before looking back up to the wide-eye girl standing impatiently before him.

“You be careful, kid. I don’t know what the Silver Sight is, but it hurt me… and it hurt Donna. Don’t let it get to you too.” He warns, handing over the piece of record to Emily.

“ _With many ups and downs._ ” Emily reads aloud as she walks away from Vince, who has taken to placing the framed drawing on a shelf behind his desk, stepping back to gaze at it longingly.

Emily is just rounding a corner of the junkyard to head back towards her scooter when she hears a deep and menacing growl from behind her. The young girl freezes in place, slowly turning around to see the wild rottweiler from before standing just a few feet away. Before she’s even given a chance to react, the dog is lunging for her quickly. Emily takes off running through the muddy junkyard, weaving her way between rows of broken down objects, doing her best to get back to the front gate without being viciously attacked.

“Ahh! Help me, someone!” She screams out, the beast hot on her heels. She spots the gate ahead and uses every ounce of energy she has left in her to sprint towards it, taking a running leap at the fence. Just as the wild dog is about to bite at her leg, Emily propels herself into the air, grabbing onto the fence and lifting herself up and over, tumbling to the ground. The dog continues to bark loudly, jumping up against the fence as if trying to break through it. Emily stands up quickly and runs over to her scooter, jumping on it as fast as possible and racing off down the road.

The young boy that appears to be terrorizing each member of the group materializes at the fence where the dog once stood, grasping onto the chainlink and laughing maniacally. He watches as the figure of Emily Junk grows smaller in the distance, taking joy in the chaos and fear he is causing each of these souls that are in search of the Silver Sight. His laughter rings throughout the chilly air, evaporating into the ether as he waits for the next phase. 

 

_To Be Continued..._


	4. Part IV: The Tycoon

**Part IV: The Tycoon**

A yellow taxi cab pulls up to the corner of a neighborhood intersection, tapping it’s breaks slowly due to the wet roads, coming to a complete stop. The backseat driver’s side door opens up, and a tall brunette emerges from the vehicle wearing a thick pale blue long-sleeved shirt and a teal puffy vest atop it.

Stacie turns to thank the driver as she shuts the door, the car pulling away from the girl as she begins to inspect the home addresses of the houses in front of her. She begins a slow descent down the street of the prominent neighborhood, muttering numbers to herself.

“220. 222…” She steps up onto the sidewalk and comes to a stop in front of a four and a half foot tall chain link fence bordering off an large empty lot.

“Where’s 224?” The brunette asks aloud, gazing left and right at the mansions around her, looking confused. She sighs heavily before walking over to an opening in the fence, ducking below the metal piping and walking onto the empty grassy lot.

Stacie wanders deeper onto the property through a mess of overgrown shrubbery and trees. There is not a lifeform nor a residence in sight in what she thought was the address of the name Aubrey had given her. As Stacie approaches the back end of the small lot, spying a lake not too far ahead, she hears a branch crack and whips her head around towards the noise.

A crow caws in the distance and the wind picks up a bit, rustling the low-hanging trees around her.

“Hello?” She calls out trying to scan through the foliage and trees. Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she sees a young girl in a white dress run out from the trees into the street.

“Hey! Wait!” Stacie yells out, taking off quickly towards the motion. It takes her about 20 seconds to weave her way back through to the front of the property, ducking under the fence and coming to a stop on the sidewalk again. The brunette sighs in defeat as she cranes her neck back and forth each way down the long, wide street, unable to see any people about.

“I know where she went.”

The voice from behind her causes Stacie to spin around quickly. The girl narrows her eyes when she spots a young boy dressed in some old and dirty looking clothing standing next to the fence, just in front of her.

“Where did _you_ come from?” She inquires, taking a couple steps towards the boy.

“Good question. You look lost.”

“Actually, I’m looking for 224 Walker Court,” she replies, stepping up into the grass, a foot away from the chain link fence, “but it’s not here anymore.”

“Sure it is.” The boy laughs, which frustrates Stacie.

 _Who does this kid think he is?_ She thinks, aggravatingly.

“Hello! You’re standing right on it and nothing’s there.” She barks, getting more frustrated.

“No. _You’re_ standing on it.” The mysterious boy glances down towards Stacie’s feet, and the girl’s eyes follow. Sure enough, Stacie is standing on top of a sewer grate with the numbers 224 etched onto it.

“She’s down there.” The boy states, looking her dead in the eye. Stacie holds his gaze for a moment before laughing.

“Yeah, okay. Sure.” She waves at him dismissively, turning on her heel to walk away.

 _What a waste of time_ , she thinks to herself.

“I know what you’re looking for.” The boy says cooly, pulling off the manhole covering with ease and tossing it to the side. The statement stops Stacie in her tracks.

“Really. What?” Stacie snapped. She was beyond aggravated at this point, feeling like she has wasted her morning on some wild goose chase, and now this random brat was trying to trick her into going into a sewer. Stacie Conrad is no idiot. She fixes a heated glare on the boy.

“The Silver Sight.” He responds, unaffected by Stacie’s hostile demeanor.

Stacie reacts, caught a little off-guard, her eyes widening at the admission. _Okay, wasn’t expecting that._

“If you want it,” he continues, “follow me.” 

And without a second thought, the kid is dropping himself right into the sewer, not even bothering to use the ladder as an aid. Stacie scoffs, disbelievingly, taking a few steps towards the open manhole and staring down into the darkness.

“Yeah, nuh uh, no way. Forget it.” She throws her hands up in the air and begins to turn around and walk away from the lot. She makes it just three paces before she’s stopping again. Stacie squeezes her eyes shut for a moment and takes a deep breath in, before reopening her eyes, exhaling and glancing up at the sky.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” She turns back around, takes another deep breath and makes her way towards the open manhole.

As she approaches the edge, she eases her body down into a sitting position, allowing her legs to hang over the edge until her feet find the first rung of the ladder. She firmly plants her hands on the edge of the ground as she twists her body around and begins her descent down into the sewer system below.

After what feels like climbing down a hundred feet underground, Stacie finally hits the bottom floor where she has become almost swallowed by darkness. The only light source is that from the manhole above casting a streak of light down on her. The brunette squints in the darkness, able to only see about twenty feet in diameter around her before what lies beyond becomes almost imperceptible. The only thing she can clearly see is that the walls appear to be made from thick heavy stone, and an old subway rail lies about ten feet in front of her, as she can just make out the edge of the platform before a drop-off.

Stacie glances at her perfectly manicured hands now covered in dirt and grime from climbing down the old ladder.

“Uhg, this is disgusting.” She wipes her hands on her pants and shirt sleeves. Taking a few steps forward, she glances around for the reason she’s now down in these tunnels.

“Alright kid, I’m down here. Where is she?” Stacie calls out, her voice echoing along the dampened walls. “Kid?”

An eerie laugh unexpectedly reverberates in the distance causing Stacie to gasp. She cranes her neck to look behind her, noticing a faint light coming from deep in the tunnels. She pulls out her cell phone, activating the torch, and begins to slowly walk in the direction towards the light.

“Hello?” She calls out for good measure, hoping to identify whomever may have caused that laugh moments ago. As the brunette walks by two large pipes covered by a wad of tarp, a small figure runs out from behind it, and dashes out ahead of her, catching Stacie completely off guard.

“Hey wait!” Stacie calls out. “Don’t run, it’s alright!” She takes off running after the girl, trying to keep up without tripping over any unexpected objects. She chases the girl for a short while, rounding a couple corners in the tunnels and stepping up through set of columns after seeing the little girl pass through them.

“Please stop, okay?” Stacie lifts herself up onto a ledge. “I wore one of my best outfits because I thought I’d be visiting some really nice house.” She says more to herself, wiping off more dirt from her hands onto her pants as she stood up straight. “I didn’t plan on being in some... really _strange_... house.” Stacie says with an alarmed expression as she takes in the sight before her.

“Holy crap.” Stacie says in bewilderment as she walks into a makeshift grand, but very cluttered, living room. She passes by a pure white Rolls Royce on her right and a grand piano adorned with freshly lit candles on her left. She walks slowly by a player piano half covered in a dirty sheet, and small desks and tables caked in layers of dust.

Stacie glides her hand along an antique couch before leaning over the coffee table set in front of it to pick up a wooden pipe. She slowly brings the end of the object to hover over one of the many mouse traps lain atop the table, pressing the pipe into the trap and setting it off. Trying to take in her surroundings, the brunette cautiously walks over to a giant fish tank that stood off to the side of the room, crouching down to gaze within it.

“When did I step through the looking glass?” She questions to herself before standing back up and wandering further into the room. Stacie eyes a table filled with items for tea, several saucers and baked goods set perfectly in their places. She stirs a spoon sitting in a cup of sugar, noticing that four places had been set at the table. She’s just beginning to inspect the baked goods when she hears a man’s voice from behind her.

“What have we here?” The strange man exclaims. Stacie observes that he’s very tall with dark brown hair, probably in his late 40s, wearing a tattered suit and carrying a golf club. He hops down from the upper ledge he appeared on and lands on the ground level.

“Were you announced?” He asks. Suddenly, a tall blonde woman who also appeared to be in her 40s and wearing a pale blue tennis outfit bounces into the room, smacking a tennis ball in the direction she just came from. She looks startled when she spots Stacie standing in the middle of the room. The two adults glance back and forth between one another and the surprise guest in their home. Just as Stacie was about to speak, to apologize for invading their space and to ask about a thousand questions she has swimming through her brain, a third presence enters the room.

“Whew! Five miles!” A young teenage boy comes running up in a grey sweatshirt and sweatpants combo. “Just beat the 11:02 and─” He cuts himself off when he sees Stacie standing in the living room. “Woah, who is this?” He looks to be completely enamoured by the tall, beautiful brunette.

“We don’t know dear, she hasn’t told us yet.” The unnamed blonde woman says. Out of nowhere, the blonde girl from earlier jumps from the upper ledge and bounds over to her parents, squeezing her way in between them and slightly obstructing herself from Stacie. She’s wearing what looks like an off-white silk dress, with a matching bow tied up in her long blonde hair. The girl grips onto her mother’s arm as her father turns to address her.

“Peggy dear, did you leave the manhole open _again_?” The tall man asks his daughter.

“It’s no matter, she’s here now.” The woman states. Stacie looks around at the four bodies, starting to feel a little uncomfortable as the teenaged boy inches closer to her.

“We were just about to have some refreshments. Would you care to join us?” The woman asks, an eccentric smile lining her face.

“Yes, please.” The man adds, with an equally peculiar grin. The young girl looks up at her parents curiously then back towards Stacie.

“Uhhhhmm, ooookay. Sure.”

“Wonderful!” The wife claps excitedly. “Jim, grab another place setting, dear.”

“Of course, mom.” The teenaged boy replies, setting off to do just that.

Less than ten minutes later, the five of them are sitting down for high tea.

“A drink, dear?” The woman asks Stacie, holding out the pot to the brunette and indicating towards the empty cup that sat in front of the girl.

“Oh, um, yes, please. Thank you.” She answers kindly, holding up the cup for the woman to pour the steaming hot drink into. She notices the younger boy, Jim, he introduced himself just moments before while pulling a seat out for Stacie to sit, is now staring at her with an odd expression. His younger sister, Peggy, sat across from the two of them next to her parents, silently dropping cubes of sugar into her teacup.

“So, what brings you to our humble abode?” The older, eccentric looking man asks, catching Stacie’s attention.

“Well, I was just looking for a woman named Eleanor Gregory, and the information I found led me to this address. I was hoping to speak with her about something.” Stacie responds.

“Eleanor Gregory was my mother.” Mr. Gregory says. “She past on years ago.”

“Oh, I’m incredibly sorry to hear that.”

“Oh no, it’s okay. That’s ancient news.” Jim says, trying to reassure their beautiful new guest. Stacie nods at his statement.

“So, I don’t mean to be rude… but, don’t you find it odd−”

“That we live down here?” Mrs. Gregory says in jest, pouring herself some tea. “It is a bit dank. But we have no choice.” She gives her husband a pointed look that Stacie catches.

“My mother made a fortune on the stock market before she was twenty.” Mr Gregory brags, proudly. “We always had the _finest_ of everything!” Stacie notices Peggy continuing to drop more sugar cubes in her drink, not paying much attention to her father speaking. “Until it all went sour,” he says with a bitterness to his voice. “Oh, wonderful tea, dear!” He directs towards his wife, who smiles brilliantly at her husband.

“So what happened?” Stacie inquired.

“Suddenly every decision mother made was the wrong one. It was as if she were… cursed.” Mr. Gregory mulls over some unspoken memory before continuing to speak. “Eventually her empire crumbled, what you see here is all that we have left.” The man gestures around him to the objects in their living space.

“You’re very pretty.” Jim directs towards Stacie. She scoffs at the boy, uncomfortable with his gaze and proximity.

“Why are you all down here?” She asks, trying to figure out the full picture of their situation.

“Well, you can’t make a fortune without also making some enemies along the way,” Mrs. Gregory states with a laugh, attempting to save face in front of this strange girl. Jim continues to eye up Stacie as she sits there, listening to the two adults explain their situation in further detail. The brunette discretely shifts to her right to place more space in between her and this strange boy.

“They took everything they could.” Mr. Gregory begins to say as he rises from his seat. “Our clothes, most of our cars. The mansion that used to stand right above us!” The man waves his arm above his head, gesturing to the lot that sits over them. Stacie starts to get a little creeped out over the way Mr. Gregory starts pacing behind his wife and daughter, his eyes growing crazier by the second.

“And if we didn’t hide down here, they would have taken everything!” He slams his hands down on the table, shaking the cups and dishes. “But we’ll be back. Ohhh yes… the Gregory Empire will rise from the ashes, and we’ll be back on top again!” The man exclaims, letting a out a burst of maniacal laughter, his wife joining him. Stacie watches them curiously for a moment before cutting in.

“How?” She asks, halting their cackling. The two adults stare at her with unreadable expressions. Mr. Gregory stands to his full height before responding.

“I-I don’t know.” He admits. “I’m working on it.” Stacie glances over towards the daughter, Peggy, who picks up the teapot holding the excess amount of sugar and dumps the remainder into her own cup, causing the older girl to make a face in disgust.

“Why are you so interested in Mother Eleanor?” Mrs. Gregory asks, holding up a small basket of biscuits for her husband to pick from as he retakes his seat at the table.

“Well, my friends and I are looking for this charm called the Silver Sight−” Mr. Gregory slams his hands on the table, decidedly cutting Stacie off. Mrs. Gregory and Jim shoot terrified glances over towards the man who is now staring at Stacie with a disturbed expression.

“Uh oh.” Jim mutters under his breath, looking at Stacie nervously. The brunette is unsure of what’s happening, the whole table having gone eerily silent. Mr. Gregory’s eyes are squinted tight, his jaw firmly set in place as he heatedly stares the young brunette down from the opposite side of the table.

“Please dear, don’t,” Mrs. Gregory places a hand on her husband’s wrist, trying to assuage his elevating temper.

“Get… Out.” Mr. Gregory spits out, rising from his seat.

“What did I say?” Stacie questions, slightly afraid.

“That _thing_ is what caused mother’s ruin. If it wasn’t for that horrid charm, we wouldn’t have to live down here like RATS!” The man yells, inching his way around the table towards Stacie, causing her to frighteningly rise from her own chair and back away from his advances.

“Yeah, but−”

“What do you want it for, hmm? Hmm? To use it’s _vile magick_?!” Jim cowers in his chair while Mrs. Gregory moves to cover her daughter’s ears as her husband voice grows louder. “My mother did, and LOOK where it got us!”

“No! But we’re going to destroy it.” Stacie says with conviction, though still completely terrified by the situation that she’s found herself in, hoping she can make it out of here without any physical confrontations. 

“Hahah,” the man tilts his head back in laughter, “You _can’t_ destroy it. It only destroys _you_! Now get out!” Stacie takes off running back the way she came in, leaving the family behind in her wake.

Stacie sprints down the deserted sewer system for what feels like an hour, when in reality it’s been just a few minutes. He heart is beating incredibly fast when she finally comes to a stop to catch her breath, hoping she’s gotten far enough away from that crazy family. She turns her head to the left and spots the ladder she had climbed down earlier. Not wanting to be down in this dreadful space any longer, she races over to the structure and places her foot on it to begin her ascent. She makes it a few rungs higher when a voice calls out to her.

“Wait!” Stacie gasps in surprise at the sudden appearance of Jim, but she pulls her right arm back, ready to start swinging if he gets any closer.

“Back off, buddy, I’m serious.” She threatens.

“Hey, I’m not going to hurt you,” the sixteen year old boy says in a soft voice. “We’re not as weird as you think… At least, I’m not.” He says with a kind smile.

“That’s nice, I’m glad. Goodbye.” Stacie starts to climb up the ladder again.

“Wait. You’re looking for that broken piece of the record, right?” He says, knowingly. Stacie turns her head to look at the guy, eyeing him up suspiciously before stepping back down a few rungs on the ladder.

“Well, yeah.”

“I can get it for you. But you have to come back later. Once my father’s gone.” Jim says with what he hopes is a charming grin. 

“Why would you help me?” Stacie asks

“You think I _like_ living in the sewer?” He replies. “If destroying the Silver Sight can get us out of here, then, I’ll do whatever it takes.” Jim says with desperation in his voice. Stacie considers his offer for a moment.

“Plus, I wouldn’t mind seeing the sun again.” He adds. Stacie gives him a soft smile.

“Okay. I’ll be back in a few hours.” Jim smiles in return before hearing his name being called out in the distance. He spins around and runs back the way he came toward his family’s living quarters whilst Stacie ascends the ladder to climb back up to street level.

Once she’s reached the opening, the brunette uses her upper body strength to fully pull herself out of the manhole, reaching over to drag the cover back over and close up the entrance to the sewers. Glancing at her cell phone, she sees the time of 11:45am. She’s supposed to meet up with the rest of her Midnight Society member’s at Aubrey and Chloe’s dorm at noon, so she opens up her call history and dials herself another cab to take her to campus. She has a lot to tell the gang, and now must wait until it’s clear for her to come back and claim her piece of the record.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

By the time Stacie arrives on campus, it’s a quarter past twelve. She marches her way up to the correct dormitory, pushing open the door to room 214. When she enters, she spies Beca and Chloe hovering over a laptop on what she presumes to be Aubrey’s desk. Aubrey stands nearby, speaking with Fat Amy and writing down some notes in a small flip notebook the older blonde is holding. She leaves the door open as she enters and strolls over to the two women to relay her morning adventure.

“So I’ll just go back in a few hours like Jim said to, and I’ll be able to get the record piece.” Stacie finishes explaining to Aubrey, as Amy wandered off about halfway through her story to check in with Beca.

“That’s great, Stace, thanks.” Aubrey places a hand on the tall brunette’s shoulder before pulling her hand away and rubbing her fingers together to wipe of the grime she just got smeared on them. 

“Yeah, I’m just gonna…” Stacie blushes and thumbs behind her towards a small sink in the room. Aubrey nods in understanding. Stacie grabs a tissue and dabs it under the tap before walking over to the vanity mirror hung on the closet door. 

“Geez, what stinks?” Beca exclaims, her face scrunched up in displeasure as an awful odor fills the medium-sized dorm room the girls currently occupy. Beca sits at Aubrey’s computer while Chloe sits on the bed to her right, and Fat Amy hovers over her left shoulder. Aubrey paces around the room, writing notes down on a small notepad, while Stacie stares into a small vanity mirror, wiping a dirt smudge from her left cheek.

“Fine! Okay, I’m guilty.” The tall brunette sighs, dusting off her filthy pale blue long-sleeved shirt, and spinning around from the mirror to re-approach Aubrey. “Honestly Bree, I thought you said this was going to be a dangerous mission. Not a dirty one.” Stacie whines and Aubrey laughs a little.

“Well at least you’re getting closer to finding a piece of the record.” The blonde says encouragingly. The senior exhales loudly before stepping over towards Chloe, who sits on the edge of Aubrey’s bed. The brunette lands heavily on the mattress, patting the other girl on the shoulder.

“Ew, gross. No offense Stace, but you stink.” The redhead apologizes, and reluctantly stands up to move away from the pungent smelling girl. Stacie looks slightly offended, but understands because, yeah, she really reeks. The brunette pulls her satchel bag into her lap reaches into it, looking for a specific item to solve her odorous problem.

“Hey check this,” Fat Amy starts. Stacie finds the small travel-sized bottle of body spray in her bag and spritzes herself with it a few times. 

“Midnight Society, 1947.” The Australian says, sitting next to Stacie on the bed, handing over the old photograph that she and Aubrey collected earlier in the morning.

“Wow.” Stacie looks amazed as she gazes at the old picture, studying the faces before looking back up at Amy to say something. Before she can get a word out, the brunette sees the look of disgust on the other girl’s face as Amy wafts her right hand in front of her face to clear out the smell.

“Uhg, okay…” Stacie stands up in a huff, deciding to distance herself from the others and sit on the opposite side of the room.

“So how did you guys do?” Aubrey asks, walking over to Beca and Chloe at her computer.

“Not good at all.” Chloe says dejectedly, as Beca sighs in frustration. “We spent like an hour online searching everything we could possibly think of. We went to the library…”

“Who knew those still existed.” Beca cuts in. Chloe rolls her eyes at the girl’s joke and continues talking.

“We’ve called everywhere, Aubrey. But we can seem to find any record of Bruce McGorrill.”

“Well he’s not a ghost or a secret operative. There has to be some kind of trace somewhere of him, I would think. So keep looking, okay?” The blonde says. Chloe nods and sits back down next to Beca as Aubrey receives a call on her cell. Seeing the name that lights up, she answers it quickly, but gets cut off before being able to say hello.

“Grandma? Is everything okay?” The blonde notices the fear in her grandmother’s voice.

“Hello?” Aubrey says into her phone, an extremely worried expression on her face.

“Grams!” Aubrey says with an increased volume. “Are you there?” She continues to yell loudly into the phone speaker before giving up and seeing that the call had dropped.

“What’s wrong?” Amy says from her seated position on Aubrey’s bed, concern laced on her face.

“Come on Amy, we need to go.” The two blondes race out of the dormitory, nearly running over Emily in the process as the youngest member of the group arrives at the dorm room.

“Easy guys.” Emily holds up her hands in defense, but the two blondes just continue their frantic path, sprinting down the hall and out of sight.

“Why are they− Oh God, what’s with that smell?” Emily says, disgusted, holding her hand up to plug her nose.

“Stacie’s been in the sewer,” Beca laughs over her shoulder. Stacie glares at the smaller brunette.

“Nooo, it smells more like bad perfume.” Emily claims.

“That’s it!” Stacie says irritated, standing abruptly from her seat. “If anyone wants me, I’ll be hanging with the stinky mole people.” The brunette turns on a dime and pushes past Emily to leave the dormitory room, Beca snickers as the leggy brunette slams the door shut.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

About thirty minutes and another taxi ride later, and Stacie finds herself once again traversing back into the underground sewer tunnels. This time, she came a little more prepared, having brought a flashlight to provide more light than her small cell phone torch. She touches down on the ground floor of the sewers and looks around, reclaiming her berings and trying to remember which way it was she went last time. 

Stacie takes a few steps down once section of the tunnel when a menacing laugh echoes throughout the chamber, causing the girl to gasp and spin on the spot.

“Jim?” She calls out, fear lining her voice. She turns back around, heading off in the direction that she had followed earlier in the day. It doesn’t take her quite as long to find the Gregory’s den again, only this time, the place looks to be more in shambles than when she first saw it. Papers have been thrown about, drawers left hanging open on the dressers and desks. Tables have been flipped over and miscellaneous items have been left strewn about. It looks to Stacie as if the place had been ransacked by burglars.

Stacie walks deeper into the room, when suddenly she hears a loud thump from behind another desk.

“Hello? Mr. Gregory?” The brunette calls out. As she rounds the fish tank she spots a strange man sitting in a wheelchair, rifling through a stack of papers inside an old desk drawer. She can’t place it, but the man looks so familiar to Stacie as she inches closer.

“Are you– Laing Candle!” She exclaims loudly as the man halts his rummaging, looking up from his seat. 

“General... Laing Candle.” He says unaffected by the new presence and continues searching through the desk,.

“Where are the Gregory’s?” Stacie demands. The man simply laughs at her, pulling several sheets of paper from a drawer and tossing them aside.

“I threatened to call the police and they scampered off like rats.” He sneers. 

“What are you looking for?” Stacie asks before realizing and answering her own question. “The record! You want their piece of the record. _You’re_ the traitor!” The General halts his motions, eyeing up Stacie carefully before speaking with a crazed glint in his eye.

“How many pieces of the record have you found?” He questions, cocking his head to the side.

“That’s none of your business,” Stacie retorts, crossing her arms in defiance.

“I can _make_ you tell me.” He threatens.

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna do, run me over?” 

“Perhaps.” Stacie laughter is short-lived when suddenly General Candle quickly rises from his chair, causing Stacie’s face to fall and her heart to momentarily stop out of fear. Not missing a beat, Stacie takes off running back the way she came down the sewer system, Laing following closely behind her.

Stacie is sprinting past old piles of junk and barrels of unidentified fluids, dodging the odd rat and stomping through puddles of murky sewer water to get away from the man that kept close on her heels. She can hear the man slip on a patch of something, allowing her to put some more distance in between them.

“Come back here!” He shouts, as Stacie speeds up, rounding a corner and coming across a set of underground train tracks, looking around for an escape or a place to hide. She runs up an incline that elevates above the set of tracks, deciding to climb through the railings and jump underneath to hide under an almost broken down crate that lay on the ground. She’s just crouching down, smashing her body as tight against the wall as possible when she hears the older man run up the incline and stop on the bridge above her. Stacie has to throw her hand over her mouth to mask her heavy breathing so she doesn’t alert the man to her position.

“Go home, girly, you hear me!” He shouts in the direction he believed Stacie to have continued running down. “Leave the Silver Sight to me!” 

Just as Laing turns to head back the way they came, a clanking noise stops him in his tracks. He looks over the railing, trying to identify the source of the sound. He waits a moment to listen for any further noises, curious if the brunette was closer than he thought. Stacie holds her breath, hoping and praying the man leaves. Her heart is beating so loudly, she fears that he may even be able to locate her from that.

After what feels like a lifetime, the man determines that Stacie must have continued further down the tunnels, and he sets off the way he came, back towards the Gregory’s home.

When she can tells he’s out of range, Stacie lets out the long and heavy breath she’d been holding in, bringing a hand up to her face to wipe the sweat from her forehead. The brunette climbs out from the cramped crate she was hiding in, attempting to brush off the dirt from her pants. A high pitched cry for help catches her attention and Stacie makes her way down the tracks towards the source.

“Hello? Peggy? Jim?” She runs ahead a little faster, coming across the boy from earlier.

“Somebody, please, help!” He cries out. Stacie hops over the rails to join the frantic boy on the other side, easing her way down to his level.

“Hey, hey are you okay? What’s wrong?” Stacie asks, trying to assess the situation.

“My foot’s stuck!” The boy says with panic in his voice, tugging at his shoe that lay wedge between the rails.

“Who are you and what are you doing down here?” Stacie questions, trying to pry his foot from underneath the fixed bars.

“I’m scared, help me out!” He cries out, ignoring the brunette’s question. Stacie leans over further to try and dig her hand underneath the loose gravel.

“It’s stuck. It won’t budge.” She says, frustrated. Both figures are breathing heavily as they work to free the kid’s foot. “Pull it out, come on!”

Suddenly, a high-pitched squealing can be heard in the distance. A heavy vibration on the tracks causes the rubble around them to bounce up and down. Stacie pauses her motions and slowly rotates her neck in the opposite direction. To her shock, she spots the headlight of a train and the distinct sound of chugging increase in volume as the locomotive quickly closes the gap between them.

“Oh shit!” Stacie yells in fear, as the booming forlorn call of the train’s whistle echoes around them.

“Get me out!” The kid shrieks in fear, seeing the fast approaching train. “Get me out!”

“I’m trying! Come on dude, pull!” Stacie is trying everything she can to loosen this kid’s shoe, it seemingly won’t budge an inch as the train barrels closer with each passing second.

“Help me, please! Help!” The boy continues to scream, offering no additional assistance as Stacie tries with all her might to dig the rocks out and pull him loose.

“It’s totally wedged. Get your foot out!” The boy contorts his face in pain, attempting to pull his leg out. “Pull, pull!” Stacie continues to shout, unsure of how much longer she can remain on these tracks as the train advances. The sounds of the squealing train gains in intensity, the horn blaring down on them as Stacie continues to pull at the boy’s foot. Any moment now, the train is going to crash through them.

“Pull, you gotta pull!”

“Ah, it hurts!” Stacie turns her head to see how close the train is, her eyes widening as it’s maybe fifty feet away, ready to collide into them. Selflessly, she is unwilling to run away and let this boy die alone. So she turns back to the kid, ready to meet her fate, when she sees that he’s standing above her, freed from his constraints.

“Leave the Silver Sight alone, or you might get hurt.” And in a flash, the boy disappears right before her very eyes, leaving Stacie completely stunned in place with the train barreling down on her. She turns back around, ready for the end, when a gust of wind propels her backward onto the tracks, the train suddenly and mysteriously gone.

“What. The. _Fuck_ was that?” She says breathlessly, covering her face with her hands and laying back on the ground, coming to terms with everything she just experienced in the last ten minutes.

After she regains her composure, Stacie runs back to the Gregory’s home. She somehow finds it even more trashed than before, but Laing Candle is nowhere to be seen. A broken lamp flickers on and off, the electrical socket shooting off a few sparks, as Stacie wanders further into the room. The brunette spots a geography book on the corner of a desk sporting a message on the front cover: _For Stacie. From Jim._

Stacie picks up the book and finds a small manilla envelope stuffed inside, the written message reading: _Please help us. - Jim_

She quickly opens up the envelope, pulling out a small piece of record. Sighing in relief, Stacie flips the object between her fingers to find the clue on the inner label.

“ _It’s a race that has no winners._ ” She reads aloud. “God, this whole thing is fucking insane.” The senior runs a hand through her hair before pocketing the piece of record and dashing out of the room back towards the ladder she climbed down earlier. She wanted to get this piece of record to Aubrey as quick as possible, and maybe shower several times.

As Stacie ascends back towards the street and climbs out from the sewers, she covers up the manhole and walks quickly away from the empty lot to await her cab back home, wanting to put as much distance as possible between her and the events that just transpired. Her taxi arrives promptly, and the brunette wastes no time in hopping in and making the driver speed off. As the car rounds the street corner of the wealthy neighborhood, the boy from earlier appears, standing atop the sewer covering, smiling wickedly as the cab advances further away.

_To be continued…_


End file.
